A New Beginning
by vintagepariss
Summary: After the death of the Potter's, their only son was left alone in the world, but it was up to one powerful wizard to decide his fortune. Promises made, no matter how low they are whispered, must be kept. Pain and sorrow endured. All for one end, to make it into the future. Warning: Corporal punishment in the shape of spanking. See chapter 13 for more information.
1. Copyright Notice and Author's Note

Copyright Notice

Copyright © 2015 Vintageparis. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling

The characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.

Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission by the author.

All images belong to their rightful owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's note:

This is a story about Harry Potter. It will not necessarily follow the book, so events will be different, characters will act differently, etc, however, there is still a possibility that some of the scenes will be very much alike. I will do my best to not make them exactly the same so hat it does not feel as though you are reading the books again (as much fum as that is) but still follows a similar idea.

This is a Snape is faced with caring for Harry story.


	2. The beginning

Hello, I've decided to try my hand at some Harry Potter stuff ( I was previously doing Sherlock). I know this is a short chapter, it is the introduction per-say. I just wanted to see if anyone out there liked it or not...Please let me know what you think in the reviews below, I would appreciate it.

* * *

The promise he had made mere days ago still lingered in the air. I will protect him, he had said. And now he was faced with the perfect opportunity, but was he ready?

The ghost of his past still haunted him and the animosity he had felt towards the father was not easily forgotten, no matter how childish.

He was not ready.

* * *

Albus walked to the front door, trailed a few steps behind by Hagrid, who was carefully cradling a minuscule sleeping baby. This was a moment that had to be cherished as it was right now, for no one present would remember how it came to be. That was the agreement.

When Albus had been faced with the task of finding a house for the now orphan Harry Potter his mind had traveled to the most unusual place. His choice was not a blood relative or even Sirius, Harry's Godfather. It had been the one person he believed would understand the pain the child had to go through. The one person he had wronged long ago and now had no right to ask such a favor of, but was willing because he was still determined to right his wrongs and bring light back into that person's life.

His choice had been Severus Snape.

Now, here he was. About to turn a new page in history. If he knocked on the door, Severus would have to accept the small bundle in Hagrid's arms and raise him as his blood. If he was to walk away and follow through a different plan, leaving Harry to fend for himself in his aunt's house, he would grow unloved and as far away from the magical world as it was ever possible. Neither were exactly appealing.

Albus was aware of the new strong and intimidating character of the young man, and although he would take care of the child as he grew, complications were bound to arise with the troublesome relationship between the Dark Lord and the Light the man carried. He knew it better than anyone else, and yet, he could not help to wish to follow that 'gut' feeling about Snape being the best candidate for the job.

It was then, that with a heavy mind and heart, the Headmaster raised his hand and knocked on the worn door, to be greeted by the sour face of the one and only Severus Snape.


	3. So this is a baby then

Alright, so I've decided to feel encouraged by the 26 views and 4 votes this story has gotten and post the next chapter. Thank you, guys! I truly appreciate it. Don't forget to let me know what you guys think in the comments below.

...

Albus Dumbledore and Hagrid had left a few hours ago, leaving him with a burden he was not ready to face. True, he had very reluctantly agreed to it, but it did not mean that he was expecting for him to be forced into being true to his word as soon as that same evening.

Now he was standing in front of his bed attempting to figure out what the next step was. He had been told that the Hogwart's nurse, Madam Pomfrey would pay him a visit, along with The Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, to ensure that he was well equipped and as ready as possible to embark on this new adventure.

For the moment he was torn. On one hand, he most definitely despised the idea of having to listen to what was indubitably going to be a long lecture on how to properly care for the Oh-so-wonderful-Boy-Who-Lived. He most definitely was capable of taking care of an infant, after all, he was a potions master and a spy. He did not need for both women to come and instruct him on every single aspect of it. On the other hand, however much he hated to accept it, he did not have all the knowledge required to care for a small child, even if it was no other than the spawn of James Potter.

His only consolation was that along with Albus, as soon as the two bothersome women left they would forget any and everything that may have transpired inside his home, something he was extremely grateful for. After all, he would be learning to change none other than Harry Potter's nappy.

The mere thought made the bile rise in his mouth and a warmth to spread across his back and neck. It was an extremely degrading act from Albus's part to have turned him into a nanny. Had it been any other child he would not have been as offended, but to entrust the child of his most hated person to him, forcing him to care and look at the horrid child was equivalent to treason.

For the moment the child was succumbed to a peaceful slumber, how did he manage to do so, Snape did not fully understand. His parents had been killed for God's sake! Lily was dead! But then again, he supposed the kid was only a baby, with no real knowledge of whatever went around him. And yet that left him with a very difficult problem to solve. As soon as Potter woke up, he was bound to begin looking around for his mother, and maybe even his father; why Snape did not really understand but then again this was Potter's son. Anyhow, the Professor would have to endure the sure-to-come ear-splitting cries as Potter called out to his mother, he was a baby after all. But how to explain to such a creature that his mother is no longer coming back when he could not even grasp the true extent of that himself.

He had been completely and utterly wrong as to how humiliating and degrading that 'little session' with Pomfrey and McGonagall had been. His pride packed it's things and walked out the door somewhere about two minutes after they arrived. They knew him too well and had not bothered with chitchat, they had simply walked straight to 'little Harry" and cooed and cuddled him and began pulling out thousands of items, all while naming them and sternly explaining to him that he was not to forget to do this or do that or shake it like so or to rub that in circles. It was an absolute nightmare. By the time they left, his house was swimming in kid toys and products, he was covered in talc and was simply ready to take a bath.

A bath indeed, that is just what he needed. But then there was the matter of what to do with the little menace. All the while those two witches had stood inside his home and bothered him with instructions Potter had simply smiled at them and peacefully played with anything at his reach. With him, however, it was nothing but loud and annoying crying. The mere sight of him caused Potter to break into sobs and his face to turn red. Of course, every adult in the room had noticed but neither of the women had offered to take over his future activities even if they were well aware of how much pain he would have to endure. Or at least Potter's pain should have caused them to take some sort of action, but it had not.

For the moment, Potter was back in a slumber, less peaceful than before as his feet kept kicking every so often and small noises emanated from his mouth. Pomfrey had informed him that he was not to leave the kid alone for long periods of time, but he supposed that a bath could hardly be dangerous. He had removed pillows and stuffed animals out of the contraption McGonagall had left Potter in, as she had also warned him that if 'Harry' choked on any of those items while Potter slept it would be his fault and the whole wizard world's wrath would fall on him for being so careless. He had not intended to pay attention to any of their threats as he was not scared of any possible outcome the two witches could invent for him, but he supposed, in this case, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Not being able to do anything else, Snape retired to take his well-earned bath. With a sigh, he dumped his mourning, black robes, now covered in all sorts of substances on the floor and lowered himself into the warm water. Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander to the last time he saw Lily alive.


	4. Comfort

A loud wail broke Snape out of his thoughts, leaving him slightly confused and disoriented. He had fallen asleep while taking a bath. His face barely above the water, if it had not been for Potter's cries he could have drowned.

Potter! The brat was crying with as much force as his little lungs allowed him to, making it impossible; no matter how much he wanted to; for Snape to ignore the plea for help. Still dripping, he wrapped a soft bathrobe around himself and walked to the screaming child.

Potter's little hands were balled into fists, and his face was scrunched up and beet red. He had been crying for a bit now, but Snape had not heard him. Snape could not help being a bit trepidant to approach the child as in his previous experiences in this close proximity all he had been able to accomplish was a new set of tears to flow from the infant's eyes along with an increase in pitch of the obnoxious wailing.

This time however, he was able to get close without allowing Potter to sense his presence. But that created a new problem for him. How to let the child know he was there without causing him to faint from the lack of air as he was inevitably bound to release all his breath in a loud wail? He could possibly tap one of the little chubby arms in hope that the crying would stop. But then Potter would flinch away from him, causing him to fall on his side and probably begin crying with increased force. Or maybe, he should simply wait it out, the less he moved the less of a chance he would cause a new breakdown.

Luckily, and surprisingly, no more planning was required from the Potion's Master as due to some amazing miracle Potter ceased his crying as soon as he saw the dour face staring back at him. Instead of bursting into tears, the confused infant used his soaked hands to indicate his wish to be picked up. The tear-stained fists closed and opened in sync to the soft sobs as they were held in the air near Snape.

He had no other options. Potter had seen him. He could not risk backing away to the security his bathroom had provided, it would surely lead to more crying. As was apparently doing his stalling. Potter had started to sob in a very audible fashion and his little shoulders were hitching up in tune. The fists had also began to open and close more frantically. He had to do something drastic and fast. He had to pick Potter up.

Stretching his hands in the direction of Potter's body, the Potion's Master attempted to figure out the best way to comfort said child while also keeping minimum contact. He placed his hands underneath the little armpits and hoisted the child up. Turning slightly sideways to get into a more comfortable position where the crib was not in the way, he allowed Potter to dangle at a safe distance.

Potter on the other hand had other ideas. As soon as Snape had situated himself with a suspended toddler at arm's length, Potter began to squirm, causing Snape to struggle to hold the child in place. Potter's legs were pulled towards his stomach and alternated between kicking towards the ground and aiming at the Professor. The hands were back to closing and opening, but this time they would take hold of the bathrobe around Snape and pull it a bit. His face was again scrunched up and tears were freely flowing out of his eyes along with pitiful whimpers.

Understanding but hating Potter's request, Snape decided that he did not have any other option but to bring the child closer to him. Of course he could always continue to struggle to hold him in place and endure the tears and fuss aimed his way. Potter was sure to tire at some point or pass out for lack of air. But there was always the risk of losing his hold. Madame Pomfrey had not lied when she said a distressed child was like holding a fish out of water. Yet, if he dropped Potter then he would be deemed an unsuitable guardian and he would not be in this predicament anymore. Maybe it was not such a bad idea after all.

A hard kick to his arm brought the Professor back from his thoughts, only to realize Potter's state had escalated back to how he was found after Snape's bath. All of his planning flew out the window once the Potion's Master was hit again with the realization of what he had to slowly, he moved his hands back towards his chest, hating himself for allowing this to happen. Once Potter was close enough to his chest, the little hands flew forward and took hold of the robe's neck and attempted to pull Potter's body closer to the Professor. Not knowing what else to do, Snape allowed his hands to shift and placed one underneath the small bottom and one behind the slightly damp back.

Potter on his part, held onto the bathrobe for dear life and continued to breath through the sobs and hiccups escaping from his lips. Allowing himself to get more comfortable on the crook of the Potion's Master's neck, he began to curl his legs in, forcing the hand that was carrying his weight to shift to the crook of an arm. The fingers behind his back began to slowly drum (clearly because Snape was exasperated with the whole situation) , making the cuddle all the more enjoyable.


	5. No more

Enjoy!

Potter was now back again in his crib, succumbed to an exhausted sleep. It took the Potion's Master a long time to be able to dislodge Potter's small body from around his neck, leaving him tired from both the day's events and the painful experience of having someone scream in your ear. Potter, on the other hand, was exhausted. Clearly, he had tired himself from all the crying he had done and had fallen asleep in the crook of Snape's arm.

Snape had had then to attempt to not only remove said child from around his body but to also figure out the best way to lay him down in his crib without waking him up. It was surprising that he had managed to do it, really, for he had done it in the fastest manner possible, only worried about freeing himself from all the snot and tears still coming from the small face. Luckily for him, Potter had not even stirred, which meant he did not have to undertake the task of attempting to feed the toddler, and which left him with the perfect opportunity to lie down in his own bed and sleep for the rest of the night.

It was two in the bloody morning!

His 'peaceful' night had never really arrived for it was the third time in a span of about fifteen minutes that Potter had woken up screaming his little head off and crying with as much force as his lungs allowed him to, making it literally impossible for Snape to even attempt to sleep through the noise.

What did Potter need, who knew. The Potion's Master had fed him, and even succumbed to the utterly embarrassing task of changing his nappy. Yet, none of his ministrations had allowed him to get the smallest reprieve from the piercing screams.

Whenever Potter had been fed, Snape had really believed that he had managed to calm the little beast, as the crying had nearly stopped completely. Potter had been content with laying on the sofa while he 'held'; with the help of one of the Potion's Master's hand; the slightly warm bottle. Even when Potter had been transported back to his crib, he had firmly held to Snape's clothes but allowed himself to be put down without much of a fight. However, no sooner than Snape himself had laid back down on his own bed, that Potter's wails broke again the lovely silence that had taken over the Potions Master's quarters.

The only option left at the time had been the possibility that the child needed a change of nappy. It was most definitely not an appealing option at all, but if it meant the peace was to be restored once and for all it was very much worth it. Yet, it proved not to be at all.

Much like the feeding, the change of nappy worked for about 30 seconds. As soon as Snape was done with the nauseating ministrations and attempted once again to lay Potter down in his rightful place, the screaming and crying started again. This time, however, he did not get a chance to even reach the side of his lovely, warm, and inviting bed. Instead, all he had been allowed to do, was to turn away from the toddler, nox the lights, and take about half a step.

"Stop it! You infuriating child. Stop your wailing this instant!" ordered Snape as soon as the lights were shining brightly again and he was facing the now crying child. Of course, the angry words did not have the desired effect whatsoever, instead, Potter went back once again to utilizing his snot-and-tear-covered fists to indicate his wish to be picked up, a prospect that was nowhere near to being appealing for Snape.

Knowing very well what needed to happen, but hating the mere fact that the thought had popped into his head, the Potion's Master began to prepare himself once again to pick up the child. This time, however, there would be no strangling of his neck. Potter was getting nowhere near his neck if he could avoid it. In fact, the child was to be placed as far away from him as possible, and this time he would make sure it happened.

Just as before, Snape picked up the toddler from under the armpits and moved to where the crib was no longer an obstruction nor a tool Potter could use to force himself closer to his neck. Yet, knowing very well that if he allowed for the little menace to simply hang at arm's length all his efforts would have been in vain. His only logical option was then to place the child on some surface where he could kick and move all he wanted but not be in danger of hurting the Potion's Master, and seeing as the bed was the most comfortable and spacious piece in the bedroom; and there was absolutely no way he was going to sit in his desk chair and be forced to place Potter on his lap just so that the two of them could fit, they started to short walk towards the bed.

Once the child was placed on it, Snape wondered what to do. He could stand there and allow Potter to do as he wanted, or he could simply sit, as far away from said child as possible, and allow himself to rest for a few seconds before returning the small beast to his own crib and finally getting his much-needed sleep. Seeing as there was so much room for Snape to sit without being in close proximity to Potter, he opted for that option instead of simply standing. But what was even better was that he could close his eyes for about five minutes and then...wake up and ...move the child...and…

Soft light was now permeating through the far window in the bedroom, waking the owner of said room. It was a rare occasion when the Potion's Master had the opportunity to rest until his body had enough. Until a few nights ago he would be abruptly awoken by an intense pain in his forearm every time the Dark Lord wished to have a meeting; and have to afterwards suffer through enduring the resulting excruciating pain of being submitted to long sessions of torture by the hand of the Dark Lord himself, or would have to rise in order to attend the meetings led by Dumbledore, that although it caused him no physical pain, put him through plenty of anguish by the mere fact of being forced to sit amongst the different members in those meetings. The few days in which he was not required to be at any particular location, he would be haunted by the horrors of his past and the many mistakes he committed and that led him to lose Lily.

Today, however, was different.

Not a single dream had passed his mind as he slept. No noise or pain had woken him up. He was well rested and felt strangely at peace. Or at least that was the case until he found a wet little ball pressing against his side.

At some point in the night, after Snape had fallen into a deep slumber, Potter had decided that since he had been invited to lay in bed with his current caregiver, he might as well move next to him. He had managed to crawl over the bed's sheets and laid himself down in a comfortable ball, cuddling himself in a similar fashion as the man had held him in the crook of his arm the first time he had been picked up from the horrid crib.

A whole night after that had occurred, his then dry nappy had changed conditions, making him feel quite cold as his previous spot was slightly damp as well. Yet, the more he began to press himself to the body next to him, the more the man stirred and slowly came out of his sleep.

Fully awake now, the Potion's Master looked down in clear disgust a the darker patch on the sheets, loathing the idea that he had been lying there mere seconds ago. The child was obviously awake as well, as his eyes were wide open and his arms began to push the small body in an attempt to turn himself around. Small sounds were escaping from the toddler's mouth as well, making it quite clear that Snape was not the only one that had noticed the source of discomfort.

Clearly not being keen on enduring another screaming session, Snape unceremoniously lifted the small creature and transported the both of them to the tub. It was obvious that a nappy change was not going to be enough this time to free them both from the lingering smell, nor did he plan on maintaining the horrible sensation of lying on his now wet sheets, therefore a bath was needed for both of them. First, he would have to take care of Potter, and then himself, that way he would have more of a chance at averting a disaster.

Once the water had warmed up, and the tub had been filled, Snape once again lifted the now babbling child to the water. All the while the both of them waited for the water to be ready, Potter had been content with simply sitting on the floor and babble to himself, while occasionally looking up to the Potion's Master, only to blubber something at him as if it was some extremely important bit of information, and then immediately looking back at his hands and continue to chatter to himself. As soon as the little feet touched the water, Potter pulled his legs up a bit, and his hands held onto the fabric of Snape's clothes, only to look down at the water over one of the arms holding him hovering slightly over the rim of the lukewarm water, and then extend his body once again while tapping the hands that held the black sleeves as prisoners mere seconds ago in a clear indication of his wish to be lowered into the water. The babbling continued as well, making Snape slightly uneasy of all the conversation going on and that he could not comprehend.

Snape allowed the small child to sit in the water for a few seconds before he began to wash him, however, as his hands moved away from the small body to grab the necessary utensils, a squeal filled the air as Potter dove to grab onto the large hand as if his life depended on it.

The water was not deep at all, making it impossible for Snape to understand why the child would feel the need to cling to his arm and attempt to use his hand as a way to getting as far away from the water in which he had sat seconds ago. Nor would he understand the force that drove him to put both of his hands back around the small back and slightly drum his fingers in a slow rhythm.

But then, it all made sense.

All those times Potter had cried for no apparent reason, it had been because he was looking for a source of comfort. And he had somehow found it in him. The dour man. The one person who had never wanted to be in the same room with said child, and even less have to care for him. Potter had looked at him for comfort. The child had somehow become attached to him in the few hours they had spent together. So much that even now, he could not stand the idea that he could be left alone for a few seconds. And he had given the child the perfect opportunity, he had placed him in his bed, allowed him to sleep the entire night next to him. He had taken the crying child out of his crib, when he had been desperate for attention, and placed him on the bed. He had fed him, cared for him, and now the child wanted him.

He could not do it. He was not ready to undertake such a task.

He was going to take Potter to his relatives. No one would ever know that he had been in charge of the child for a day. No one would remember it ever happening. He would never have to care for the child...

TBC...


	6. Meeting the Potion's Master Again

Snape's fingers drummed on the table as he looked at the small clock by the fireplace mantle. The first potion class of the year was to begin in no more than forty minutes, which meant he had no reason to panic. But he did. He had heard the rumors. It was not a surprise, however. It was bound to happen. Potter was in the school.

Nearly ten years ago, he had made the decision to give Potter back to his relatives. Dumbledore had trusted him with raising the child. No, he had been forced. Forced to follow a promise he had made while his heart was shattered, his soul ripped to pieces as he held the trembling hand of Lily Potter. A few hours before the Dark Lord had barged into their home, leaving two cold, unmoving bodies behind, he had rushed to that same place to warn his only friend, his one love, of her imminent death. He had long ago bowed to never have contact with the Potter household again. But the fear of losing her once again had forced reason into his mind and led him to stand in front of her and make the one promise he never imagined he would make.

 _I will protect him._

But he couldn't. He had tried. He had endured a few days with the then one-year-old Potter. But it was too much. He had her eyes. The eyes that every time they looked at him made him go back to the first time he saw Lily. Eyes that whenever they filled with tears, reflected the same fear and pain Lily's did when he told her the danger awaiting her, torturing his soul over and over again as he relived the last moments, when he held her frozen body as he wept as he had never done before, for his reason to be had vanished from this earth, leaving him alone.

He had given Potter up. But now, in no more than ten minutes, he would have to face the child again. He would see those eyes that tormented him, and pretend as if those few days had never occurred. He would treat Potter as if he was any other student.

….

As Harry and Ron climbed up the steps out of the dungeon as soon as Potion's class was over, Harry's mind continued to race as if to make up for his low spirits. He was still in shock that he had somehow managed to lose two points for Gryffindor in the very first week of class. True, one of them could be attributed to his lack of knowledge, even if it was not a good reason nonetheless; the second, however, was not his fault at all. Snape had simply taken the point off because he hated him. Who in his right mind would take a point off simply because he did not warn Neville from using the wrong ingredient when he barely even knew which one was the correct one?

And there was also Snape's eyes. His eyes were black as coals, however, nowhere near as warm. As he stared into the Professor's eyes, he could not help feeling a bit sad. He did not know why or how he knew this, but behind them, there was a pain so deep that any glimmer of happiness had been pushed down, drowned under the dark waters of the pair of endless pits.

"Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?" said Ron, snapping Harry back to the no strength, to respond Harry simply nodded his head and attempted a weak smile in the direction of his redheaded friend.

Making a short stop in the Gryffindor Tower to leave their books, the two boys began the trip to Hagrid's small wooden home at around five to three. The walk across the grounds helped Harry clear his head from the fog that had spread there after Potion's class. The short grass reminded Harry of the life he always wished he had instead of the one he was stuck with. He often imagined that he grew up with his parents, in a home with a big yard in the back, where he would be able to take long walks without worrying if Dudley and friends were following him,and he would be able to sit outside at sunset and simply observe the sun as it travelled down without the constant nagging voice of her aunt Petunia telling him to go inside and wash the dishes.A bit too soon for Harry's liking, they made it to where Hagrid lived and raising his hand, Harry knocked on the thick wooden door.

The noise was soon followed by a loud screeching of a chair and a low bark. Immediately after, Hagrid's hairy face appeared behind a small opening that soon after turned into a broad gesture to let them in.

…

The meeting with Hagrid had turned out to be longer than they had anticipated. By the time both Ron and Harry looked out the window the sky had turned completely dark, the only things lighting the way back to the caste were the moon and stars. So saying their goodbyes, Harry left his last rock cake on the plate and took Ron with him.

"We better hurry Harry," said Ron. "I bet it is well past curfew and if anyone was to catch us out...well" Ron broke off, as he took a look at Harry. Harry was staring at the forest near Hagrid's house, or more specifically at the person coming out of it. Snape.

"Come, this way" whispered Harry as he pulled on his friend's arm. There was a chance that Snape had not noticed them yet, as he was currently shaking something off his robes. So the two boys quickly ducked around Hagrid's hut in an attempt to hide out of the Professor's sight.

Harry and Ron held their breath as they observed the Professor tug on the end of his sleeves in order to return them to their impeccable and straight state.

….

Pulling onto his sleeves in order to straighten them, Snape considered what to do. Of course, he had seen Potter and Weasley come of Hagrid's hut and duck out of sight as soon as they had spotted him. Clearly, they thought him to be foolish if they doubted for one second that he had managed to see them.

It was a given that he would somehow educate them on that little fact, as well as impress on them the importance of adhering to the rules. Nothing, said however that he could not have a bit of fun. He could always walk back into the forest, only to come out and creep behind both unsuspecting boys, imparting on them a lesson they would not be soon to forget.

Sharply turning around, Snape walked back into the forest through the same path he had gone out. Pushing branches aside, he slowly made his way to the back of the wooden hut but continuing to observe the two clueless boys. Obviously thinking that the danger had passed, they stood up from their hiding spot, shook a few pieces of grass off of their trouser legs and began to walk once again towards the castle.

Both children tore glances at the forest as if they expected Snape to come out again, which he supposed was quite correct. Fact is, he had already done it. He was a few steps behind them, and in a few seconds, he would be close enough to clamp them on the shoulders.

 _Snap!_

A small twig snapped under his foot, startling both children and causing them to turn around in horror at the realization that they were not alone. The Weasley child was the first one to realize just who was following them. His face contorting in a look of pure and utter terror. Potter, on the other hand, was able to control his facial expression more. A small glimmer of surprise passed those green eyes, only to be immediately replaced by anger. Anger that hit him so hard, as if Lily herself was standing in front of him, claiming her anger at being shoved aside as he brooded in his own despair.

"Weasley and Potter." Exclaimed Snape. " Could not even wait to break the rules?"

Weasley's fear was still extremely visible as he forcefully gulped as he talked. Potter, on the other hand, remained as enraged as before. Looking down at the child's hands, which were now made into tight fists that shook slightly as resent flowed through the Golden Boy's body, and raising an eyebrow he continued: "Have you both any idea how dangerous it is to be out after curfew, or do you believe that the rules do not apply to you, Mr. Potter? After all, you are the new celebrity."

Narrowing his sight in order to meet the angry stare of the same child he had held almost ten years ago, he straightened his cuffs once again. "Mr. Weasley, you will report immediately to your dormitory, where you will soon find a letter you will take to Mr. Filch tomorrow morning in order to serve your detention with him. And you Mr. Potter, will come with me." His hand latched onto the boy's arm as he spun and dragged him along with him to the dungeons. It appeared as though Potter and he would be meeting once again.


	7. Down to the dungeons

The walk through the castle was slow at best. Hand latched onto the child's arm, Snape occasionally looked sideways as if to make sure the child was still following, which was absolutely ridiculous as he was practically dragging the uncouth child himself. Why he was doing it, basically begging Potter to run, he did not know, but then again he supposed it could do something with the uneasiness he felt about the possibility of being alone with the child. What if Potter remembered him somehow? What if he remembered how he had cried for his mother and he, the feared Potions Master, had held him?

He supposed he could let the child go. The experience of being dragged near the dungeons by him should be a terrifying experience of itself. He could assign a punishment on top of it as well. Maybe a detention and an essay. Yeah, that sounded severe. But then how was he going to explain his reasoning behind taking the child with him? What could he say, that he was simply looking to scare the child? Of course, that could not do. He would have not only the Golden Boy's family knocking on his door as soon as he released Potter but McGonagall and Dumbledore as well. They would want to know who in their right mind would want to scare a child. Of course, McGonagall would be more concerned about what was wrong with him since he had let Potter go and Dumbledore would wonder why he had felt the need to punish said child if all he had been doing was walking outside to see a friend. No, the mere thought of having to explain himself to them made him continue walking with Potter stumbling behind him.

But what exactly was he going to do once they got to his office?

…..

Snape's hand on his arm was starting to hurt a bit, but then again he supposed that is what he got for being so short. The man was basically dragging him in order to make him keep up with the fast and long strides. It did not help either that the black billowing robes the Professor wore would occasionally tangle on his foot and make him slip a bit on the damp stone floor.

He had never imagined the dungeons to be damp, but then again he supposed that is what snakes liked…

The small smile that had spread across Harry's face quickly disappeared as he caught a glimpse of Snape looking sideways at him. The man looked extremely angry, along with something else, something he could not quite put his finger on. It was obvious that Snape considered both his and Ron's little escapade to be more serious that they did. Sure, they had been out past curfew but they were with Hagrid, and even though he was not a Professor, he worked on the school's grounds, which made him something close to a Professor, or even a Prefect. They were not alone for God's sakes. And it had only been past curfew when they were intending to go back. They had not sneaked out at night to go visit Hagrid, they had walked out under the bright sunlight only to come out a bit later than they had thought. Surely, that could not be as bad as sneaking out…

….

A bit too soon for Harry's taste, they were standing in front of a broad wooden door in the middle of a corridor, to which the Potion's Master waved his hand in order to open it. Without wasting a single second, the Professor used the same hand that had previously been clutching the small extremity to push Potter into the office. The walls were lined with shelves which held an enormous amount of bottles with liquids, although some did not seem to be liquid at all and many different colored substances.

A small shiver spread across Harry's back as the chilled air swirled around him. The fireplace found near the small desk was clearly not used on a daily basis as neither a fire nor the ashes of a slowly burning one were found inside.

Not knowing what to do, Harry stood in the middle of the room, observing as Snape re-straightened the sleeves of his robes and took one last long look at the child in front of him. Walking around the small desk directly across from the door, Snape placed both hands on top of the wooden surface and let a frustrated breath out, all before issuing the single command:

"Sit"


	8. In the office

Walking very slowly, Harry made his way to one of the two chairs in front of the Professor's desk. None of the anger the man had previously displayed seemed to have dissipated during the walk; if anything it seemed to have incremented tremendously. As soon as he sat down, Snape was sure to lay into him. He would begin to yell and Harry was not sure he would be able to keep his temper. This was the man that had made his hatred for him very clear during their short encounter, who loved to ridicule him in front of the whole school.

Most people had heard his story; as weird as that was for him; and were aware that he was raised by muggles, that he had no experience with magic, and yet Snape had asked him questions he definitely did not know the answer to. Not many people in class appeared to know where to get a bezoar; well, besides Hermione; so why was he supposed to know?

What was really bothering him was not the fact that he had not known the answer to Snape's question; he had made peace with the idea that he was bound to find a vast amount of things he did not know how to do in the magical world seeing as he did not grow there; but how the man had pointed out his lack of knowledge for everyone to laugh at. And what was worse, Snape now had a good reason to bother him even more. He had not even managed to sneak out without getting caught! The man was sure to parade him around school and announce with an evil sneer that he, the famous Potter, could not do something so simple as keeping out of sight, that he was a failure as a wizard, that he was no good at anything.

…..

Snape watched as the emotions passed through the child's face. There was definitely a hint of nervousness, clearly brought about by the impending repercussions of his little escapade, there was also some anger. Whatever the child was thinking was enough to make him fume and move his hands to under his legs, probably in an attempt to keep them from forming into fists. And then there was resentment.

Could that mean that the child did remember?

No. No, he could not. Potter had been no more than a year old. He could not remember anything that had happened during those few days.

It had been a long time since Snape had commanded the child to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of him. Silence had reigned heavily, imploring to be broken, but Snape was at a loss for words. As soon as he had spotted both Weasley and Potter emerging from the oaf's hut he had decided that both children needed to be taught a lesson. Weasley was quickly taken care of, as he could very easily persuade any Professor in the school, including McGonagall, to impart an appropriate detention activity, yet Potter was a different matter. Most of the Professor's were extremely reluctant to even raise their voices at said child in fear of tarnishing the fame that hung over the boy's head. He however, was not. He was more than capable of providing the appropriate punishment for such transactions. Nonetheless, now that he had the opportunity he was unsure as to what that punishment would be. Clearly he could not rely on other Professors. He had to do it himself.

"Mr. Potter" finally said Snape after sitting down in his own chair and readjusting his hands in front of him, causing the child's head to snap up, "you will be serving detention with me. I expect you to be in my office tomorrow directly after your classes. I have in my possession," continued Snape as he saw the child's mouth open as he began to form a protest, "a series of cauldrons that would benefit from a very thorough cleaning, which I am sure you will be able to provide, and after which I will determine if you have indeed learned your lesson or if you require more than one afternoon of such activities." Seeing as Potter's hands had found their way into tight fists once again, he could not help but to add "However, because I am positive that you have a few minutes to spare, seeing as you did not remain in the castle as you were supposed to, I will provide you with the necessary instruments for you to complete a series of lines that will help ensure the message sinks in."

Pinning the child in front of him with one last hard glare, Snape stood up to retrieve said items. Once his hands were full of a quill, bottle of ink, and a roll of parchment, he made a short trip of going back to the desk. Potter had remained seated but his head now hung a little bit, clearly brooding in his anger at being treated, in his opinion, unfairly. Snape could not help the soft snort that escaped his mouth at the idea that Potter could really believe that the punishment was unfair at all. But then again, the child had probably been pampered all his life, with everyone around him, much like the rest of the professors, too scared to do anything at all. Well, if that was the case he was soon to realize that the he was not even remotely afraid of dealing the right consequences for the child.

As Snape continued to stand next to the chair where Potter was sitting, he felt his patience running out of him. It was very clear that he intended for the urchin to take the items in his possession, however, Potter had made no attempt whatsoever to take them, so with a sigh, he placed the items on the desk, and returned to his chair on the other side of the desk.

"It would do you well to stop attempting to ignore me right this second " exclaimed Snape as he found his chair once again. Leaning back and interlacing his fingers in front of him, he continued: "I believe it is clear that I expect you to take a hold of the items I have so kindly provided for you, and have the decency of looking at me when I am speaking to you!"

Harry's head snapped up at the change in tone. Setting his jaw in a further attempt to hold the many words threatening to explode out of him, he forced himself to look at the black bottomless pits the Professor possessed as eyes.

"I will have you know, Potter," Snape's temper had not calmed at all, making him lean forward in his chair as he pinned the child in front of him with a hard stare, "that my patience is running extremely low. Now, unless you wish to show to me that you can be as arrogant and headstrong as that father of yours…"

This time, however, he was not able to finish the sentence as Harry stood from his chair with such force said item fell backward, hitting the ground and making the loud impact of wood on stone echo through the walls of the small office they were confined in. As the chair touched the floor, Harry's anger exploded as well in a scream of: "Do not talk about my father!"

A loud slap joined the echoing sound as Snape slammed both hands on the smooth polished surface of the desk in front of him, putting a stop to any other protest Potter could have formed.

"Sit. Back. Down!" Each word was enunciated with such force, Harry could not help feeling remorseful about his outburst. Granted he had been provoked, but he was just a child. Yet, allowing the anger to flow through him once again, he stood his ground, and looking straight at the Professor in front of him, he continued: " You did not know my father, you cannot talk about him as if…"

"Your father" Interrupted Snape "was just as exasperating and unruly as you have proved to be in the short time you have known me. Do not" Snape raised his voice once again to cut off any protest Potter wanted to include in the conversation "dare to contradict me Potter as you did not spend the necessary time with the man to even begin to claim to know him in any way. He may be your father," Snape added a finger to the raised voice to keep the child quiet, " but you did not know him. You spent no more than a year with him, and retain no memories whatsoever of that time. You will never remember him," swallowing with what looked like a bit of effort, Snape carried on, "nor your mother. You cannot claim to know any of them, nor attempt to defend their character for everyone will know it is just your childish impulse to praise your parents as your worthy heroes, but let me tell you," Snape's hand slammed once again on the desk's top, albeit nowhere near as hard as before, as he finished, "your father was not a hero."

As soon as Snape's speech was done, he straightened up and blinked as if surprised at what he had just said. A heavy silence hung in the air and the Professor stared at the green eyes in front of him. The pain he saw in them reminded him once again of Lily. His Lily. It was the same pain he had caused her when, in his own despair, he had pushed her aside, called her names meant to cut deep into her and turn her concern into hatred. The same watery stare she had turned on him, as he continued to mercilessly taunt her in order to take away the pain he felt in his own heavy heart.

He had done it again. Lashed out without thinking of the consequences. And just as before, there was no way he could fix it in any way. It was his own doing, and he did not deserve to be pardoned. But this was a child. Lily's child.

 _I will protect him._

He had promised, and now he had severed any chance he had at doing so. There was no going back.

Black and green eyes continued to stare at each other, each slightly muddled behind their own thoughts.

Snape softly cleared his throat as he attempted to come up with something to say. But what? A soft knock on his door saved him from having to form any words and caused Potter to blink rapidly as he attempted to clear away the tears he had been holding back. Clearing his throat once more he called in whoever was outside his office and was immediately met with Albus Dumbledore.


	9. Party of three

Blue, tired eyes met black ones for a few seconds. It was a stare that Snape had gotten to know too well. The man was at one point the only solace he could find in his teenage years, and to see such sadness directed his way was, to say the least, unnerving. He felt intimidated enough to have to force himself to swallow in order to gain enough courage to defend his actions.

"Headmaster" was all he managed before having to swallow again, and even then it almost sounded like a plea. The blue eyes lingered on his for about a second more before moving on to the expecting emerald ones.

"I was under the impression," started the Headmaster, "that Mr. Weasley will be serving an evening detention with Mr. Filch." No one dared make a sound as the heaviness in the air changed nature. Expectation was now clearly mingled in the air as well. The blue eyes bore once again into the black pits. "Is he not, Severus?"

Straightening up Snape answered with a sharp nod of his head, "Mr. Weasley is serving detention with tomorrow evening, yes." As he opened his mouth to continue, the Headmaster held up a hand in order to stall any further explanation, his eyes lingering a few seconds again before moving back to Harry's.

"Harry" continued Dumbledore, "it would seem as though you will be serving a different kind of sentence from, are you not?"

"Ye..yes," began Harry, "but Professor, I…"

"I" interrupted Snape; his voice was raised again, compelling every set of eyes to turn to him. "I took up the task of personally overlooking his punishment, as I believe he was the instigator behind both Weasley's and his escapade, and no other member of our faculty would be very much inclined to provide the appropriate consequences for his actions."

Harry could not help the small snort that escaped his mouth at the last bit of Snape's 'explanation'. Appropriate consequences, right! Snape would most definitely not be able to do anything deemed proper or fitting to the, minor, infraction he had committed. Snape was sure to chop him up and preserve him along the many items found in the vials around him.

His snort was clearly not missed by the other occupants of the room, as Harry found himself the sole interest of both adults. Snape was glaring at him with obvious annoyance while Dumbledore's stare was one of curiosity, and perhaps something akin to concern, and yet not quite.

"Harry", said Dumbledore once again after a while of staring at said child, "do you feel alright?"

"Huh?" was all that Harry was able to muster after been caught off guard by the Headmaster's question, however, whether Dumbledore heard him or not, was not clear, as he simply continued as if nothing had been said.

"You look quite pale", exclaimed the Headmaster, turning his attention once again to the only other adult in the room. "Does he not Professor Snape? I believe we may have a sick child on our hands. Or perhaps it was simply the shock of being, taken, down to the dungeons..."

"Headmaster" cut in Snape as Dumbledore continued to muse on the reasoning behind Harry's apparent paleness. "I truly hope you did not come in here simply to comment on the state Mr. Potter may be found in." Snape's fingers made their way to the bridge of his nose as he let out a sharp exhale. "Whatever it is you wish to discuss…"

"Can be discussed later" said Dumbledore. "You are clearly occupied at the moment"

"Yes. I am" answered Snape "Nonetheless, you were well aware that was currently joining me in my office, and yet felt it necessary to come join the party. I cannot help but think that whatever you wish to discuss with me must be of great importance. Furthermore, Potter has been given instructions as to what is expected out of him, and it would do him well to follow them through. Now, if you please…" Snape finished while extending his hand towards the only other door in the small office.

With one last look towards Harry, both Snape and Dumbledore closed the heavy wooden door, leaving Harry surrounded by the strange flasks and the cold air of the office.


	10. More than lines

It's July 31st! We all know what that means :).

I have a long chapter here for you guys, I hope you enjoy it, and that you'll leave me lots of reviews to tell me know what you think. Any feedback is good. I want to know what you guys like and what you don't like.

Enjoy!

…..

With a dejected sigh, Harry slowly made his way to the desk in front of him. On its top was the long piece of parchment Snape had taken out, along with a quill and ink, for him to write lines. Why did he have to do them, he was not certain. Sure, Snape had said that it was to make sure the lesson sank in, and because he obviously had too much free time if he had been wandering around the castle, but really, wouldn't a detention be enough? He was supposed to serve detention with Snape himself, so it was not like he wouldn't be sufficiently punished.

Then there was also the tiny little fact Snape had forgotten to mention. How many lines was he supposed to write? And of course, trivial things such as to what he was meant to write, but, that was probably the point. Snape was most likely looking forward to humiliate him even more by simply telling him to write lines, leave him alone in the room for hours, and then come out to find that he had not written anything at all because he did not know what he was supposed to write.

He was surprised; and not in a pleasant way; when daring to look at the piece of parchment a single sentence was neatly written at its top.

 _I will no longer attempt to break the rules imposed by the school._

There it was. Snape was most definitely taunting him. 'No longer attempt.' It clearly said what Harry had been dreading all along, and would not be allowed to forget.

As soon as he sat down on the chair he had vacated a few minutes ago, two new sentences appeared on the paper: _You better begin those lines Potter, and do not dare to stop writing. I expect a substantial amount of lines on this piece of parchment as soon as my meeting with Professor Dumbledore is over._

That was too much. How did Snape know what he was thinking? What if he didn't start, would Snape know? Would he continue to bother him through the paper, telling him he was writing too slow, or his handwriting was sloppy?

The temptation to see if Snape would indeed be able to somehow tell if he was writing the lines or not without being present in the room was almost too much, and yet, the slight suspicion that Snape would not hesitate to storm out of the office and embarrass him even further in front of Dumbledore was enough to make him pick up the delicate quill and dip it in the ink.

 _I will no longer attempt to break the rules imposed by the school._

It really was just too bad that they had been caught, specially since it had honestly been a mistake. They did not plan to break curfew at all, but time had flown by and caught them by surprise. And on top of everything it had to be Snape that caught them.

 _I will no longer attempt to break the rules imposed by the school._

He would take McGonagall any day over Snape. Sure, she was their Head of House and could be extremely stern, but at least she was just. She would not keep him prisoner in the dungeons. She would not make him serve a detention as well as write lines.

 _I will no longer attempt to break the rules imposed by the school._

He could probably talk himself out of having to serve any punishment at all. It had not been too long since the induction ceremony, and both Ron and him could probably explain that it had been all an honest mistake. Surely she would grant them a chance, it's not like they had been forced to adhere to the rules for a long time yet.

 _I will no longer attempt to…_

A loud slamming noise originating from the other room startled Harry, causing him to scratch a long line towards the end of the page and small droplet of ink to pool in the middle. Harry, continued to absently stare at the black blob as his heart jumped in his chest, muffling any indication of what was going on in the room, no matter how intently he listened . Nonetheless,he was able to make out the sound of Snape's loud booming voice echoing through the walls. What they were talking about was not clear, but whatever it was must be important.

Turning around in his chair with one last look at the slightly soggy parchment in front of him, Harry observed the door for any sign that the adults were approaching it. Standing up with as much care as he could, Harry slowly and quietly made his way to said door, only to immediately place his ear in very close proximity to the wooden surface in an attempt to decipher the words being said by both adults while also keeping the door from groaning under the added pressure.

"I do not understand why you would ask such a thing out of me!" roared Snape "Have I not done enough?"

"Of course you have Severus," said Dumbledore in a calm voice.

"Then why?" nearly yelled Snape, causing Harry to strain even closer to hear.

"I believe he deserves a chance" There was Dumbledore's calm voice again; whoever they were talking about, Snape was clearly not pleased, no matter how much Dumbledore tried to reason with him; "You know as well as I do that there is more to him than everyone sees"

"I do not know what you are talking about!" boomed Snape's voice through the heavy wooden door.

"You do Severus" continued Dumbledore in his calm voice, "and you have. You gave him a chance before"

Whatever was said after was lost to Harry as the only sounds that made their way through the door he was carefully leaning against were extremely muffled and impossible to make into words. That did not mean that Harry did not try however. He gingerly pressed his body as close as he could, digging his fingers into the panels of the door. His heart was pounding in his chest.

After standing by the door for a bit longer; in hope that any other fragments of the conversation going on between the two men filtered to his side of the room; Harry gave up with a dejected sigh and made his way to the desk and waiting lines once again. To his relief there was no indication upon the parchment that Snape had somehow noticed Harry's absence from his assigned task, however, that did not made it any easier for him to concentrate on the assignment. Questions about what little he had been able to hear circled his mind nonstop. Who were they talking about? Why was Snape so angry about it? What had Dumbledore asked Snape to do?

That had to wait nonetheless. As much as he wanted answers there was no way he could get them. It's not like he could simply ask Snape as soon as he came out of the meeting, the man would start chopping him up on the spot for sure. Dumbledore would not help much either. No matter how nice the man looked, confessing to spying on a private meeting would probably not be taken as good behavior either.

He would have to get answers on his own, somehow. But how?

…

After the third time Harry had taken a small break from writing to twist his wrist slightly in an attempt to alleviate some of the sharp pain building upon the joint, the door was opened with enough force to startle him. It took a few seconds for Snape to appear in the doorway, pausing only to fix his sleeves and straighten his back before walking into the little office. Harry quickly turned back around to face the parchment in front of him, yet, he was not able to miss the slightly curious look Snape was sending his way.

The silence in the room was deafening. Snape did not move any closer to the desk, and soon enough the only sounds in the small room were the scratching of the quill on the parchment and Harry's sharp breathing. To say that he was not scared the Professor had somehow managed to find out he had not only stopped his lines but had spied on his conversation with Dumbledore would be a lie. Any second now, Snape's loud booming voice would be heard all over the castle as he tormented him for his lack of control or something.

The voice never came however. Instead, retreating steps were heard, causing Harry to swivel in his chair once again to catch a glance of the Professor's black robes as they disappeared into a door Harry had not even realised was there. What was behind that door, Harry could not see from where he was sitting, nevertheless he did not want the Professor to come back into the room and find him out of his seat attempting to look in and give him the perfect opportunity to interrogate him on his curiosity, and inevitably lead him to confess to all his infractions.

Soon enough the man came out of the room, closing the door tightly behind him. Once again he pinned Harry with his stare, though this time it was not curiosity that ruled it but a calm sternness that was even more disconcerting. It was almost as if the man was making up his mind about something difficult to carry out. Something unpleasant.

Without a word from either the child nor Professor, Snape continued walking towards the desk without breaking eye contact. Dumbledore had said too much, asked too much, and he was not willing to help this time.

Carefully sitting down in his chair, Snape placed his hands over his lap in an attempt figure out how to go about what he had to do. One of the tasks Dumbledore had forced upon him was to give Potter a small dose of one of his Potions, since the child did look quite ill. As much as it pained him, this he had agreed to do, seeing as Madame Pomfrey was currently occupied by other matters. That did not mean however, that it was a painless undertaking.

Pulling out the small vial from the pocket in his robes and placing it on the desk, Snape commanded: "You will drink this Potter." Attempting to stall of any argument, he forcefully pushed the small bottle in the direction of the child and placed his hand in its previous position. Potter nonetheless, did not show any inclination to do as he was told. The child merely stole a quick glance at the bottle being offered to him before immediately going back to the lines he was pretending to be concentrating extremely hard on. The hung head, hunched shoulders, and rapidly moving hand would fool most anyone into believing the child had not heard the order at all, and yet, the tight swallow and rapid blinking indicated otherwise.

"Potter" started Snape again, raising his voice as a sign of his rapidly declining patience, "you will take that vial in front of you and drink all of its content." The child made no move. "If" His voice increased in tone once more, "you continue to ignore my instructions…"

"I do not want to drink it" Quickly interrupted the child before the threat was finished.

"Do not!" yelled Snape as he stood from his chair "interrupt me Potter" Reaching across the desk he took possession of the vial. "You will drink it"

"I do not want to drink it!" repeated the child in anger.

"I do not care if you wish to drink it or not" His patience has most definitely gone. "You will do it!"

"Why?!" Harry was now standing as well, meeting the Professor's hard stare in kind.

"I am telling you to do so and you will." His hand trusted towards the child as if to emphasize the lack of room for an argument the child possessed. "If I have to force you…"

"I won't drink it!" Potter had the gall to interrupt him once again.

The urge to walk the few paces to where the child was and take possession of the small robes in his fist was almost too much. Oh how he wished he could force the child's mouth open and force the Potion down his throat, but, he was the adult. A Professor. To do so would be, horrible, or at least that's what he had been told when conversing with others. That did not mean though, that his hands could not twitch for that urge.

It was obvious this was a fight that would not be won in a peaceful fashion by either side in the near future. There really was no reason for the child to refuse drinking the Potion. He was offering it to him in order to heal him after all.

Harry could tell the man's patience was practically gone. The moment he had spotted him coming out of the mysterious door, with that stern look about him, he should have realized something was going to happen. But give him a Potion? That he had not been expecting. Tearing off his fingers, sure, but a small vial with mysterious contents was not in Snape's expected behavior, even if he was the Potions Master. And there was no way he would drink it. For all he knew it was poison.

He was well aware that yelling at the man was childish, and not to mention disrespectful; even if this man obviously hated him, and deserved to be screamed at and more; but he could not help doing it. How else was he supposed to keep from drinking the potion? Pretend to drink it and then spit it on the man's face? Surely that was worse than yelling.

Both Harry and Snape continued to stare at each other, neither backing down nor cowering from the other's glare. Snape's demand was still clear in the tight grip of the lonely vial, while Harry's was observed in the tight fists holding onto each side of his trousers. Snape was the first to change tactic however. Settling for a calmer approach, he placed the vial down on the desk, and sat back down on his chair. Each movement was sharp, angry. With one last look at the child in front of him he said: "If our esteemed Potter deems it too above himself to intake that vial of Potion, so be it. There is not much I can do about it. You are Professor Dumbledore's Golden Boy after all. You are dismissed, Potter, but know this, next time we meet I expect you to have a reasonable explanation that may aid me to comprehend why you thought it would be acceptable to not follow my instructions and write your assigned lines the moment I instructed you to do so."

Harry's hands relaxed without his consent when surprise took over the anger he was feeling. The man knew. Well, he knew about the lines, which technically was not the worst of it, but it was bad enough.

"I...I" Harry struggled to come up with an excuse on the spot that would make him look less like a disobedient child but he could not do it. It is not like saying he stopped because he wanted to listen to the private conversation was a good answer. Even lying and pretending he did it to look around the office was not good.

"Oh please, Potter," said Snape, causing Harry to look at him once more "did you really think I would not know?"

No answer could hang in the air as Harry provided none. The child simply looked as if he was still looking for the right words to defend himself. They continued to stare at each other as they had many times during the course of the evening. Snape sitting while Harry continued to stand.

Bringing his hands to rest on top of the desk and leaning forward, Snape spoke: "While you were clinging to the other side of the door, how much of the conversation between the Headmaster and I were you able to hear?"

"I didn't hear anything" tried to argue Harry, but the look of bewilderment plastered on his face betrayed him too much.

"We both know that is a lie Potter" exclaimed Snape, remaining seemingly calm. He could see the heat spreading through the child's neck and ears. Potter was caught and he was well aware of it. "What did you hear?"

"I didn't…. I didn't mean to listen…" What else could he say?

"You mean to tell me you found yourself by the door by accident?" The boy remained silent. "No?" Huffed Snape. "What did you hear?"

After a small hesitation, Harry began: "Only that Dumbledore wanted you to do something for him. I don't know what, I swear"

"I want you to listen to me very carefully Potter." stated Snape "The conversation between the Headmaster and myself was private. You were not included in it for a reason..."

"But I..." tried to explain Harry

"Do not interrupt me." Snape reminded him once again as his voice roce in level as before. Taking one breath to attempt to compose himself, he continued: "As I said before, unlike the rest of the Wizarding World, I have no issue whatsoever with seeing that you are held accountable for your actions, as novel an idea as that may be for you. I understand that you are used to being pampered, and catered to your every need, but while you are in my presence you will abide by my rules. I…" emphasized Snape seeing as Harry was reading himself to interrupt once again, "do not like being interrupted no matter how pressing what you have to say may be. Likewise I do not take well to being eavesdropped on. I will advise you to take this as a warning and control yourself before you even consider screaming like you did minutes ago." Snape paused, letting his words sink in."Once again, you are dismissed, Potter, but know that we will be addressing your eavesdropping problem later this week."

Taking one last look at the man, Harry summoned all the courage he owned, and with a trembling hand he took hold of the forgotten vial and walked out the door.


	11. Glass Vials

I know I left some questions unanswered in the last chapter, sorry again about that, but here are some of the answers.

Enjoy!

…

Harry scanned over the small piece of paper for the third time, almost hoping that he had somehow read the words wrong. Your detention will be today at 6:30 was all it said, followed by Snape's name, but Harry could not help wishing that the words would suddenly disappear from the small parchment.

His leg continued to move nervously under the table as everyone enjoyed the meal in the Great Hall; he on the other hand, could not eat. He had detention with Snape in just a bit more than an hour! The man had for some reason given him a chance the night before and allowed him to leave alive, but today he probably would not be so lucky.

Shifting in his seat once more, Harry let out a long breath as he attempted to calm his nerves and swallow some of the food in front of him.

…

A long time had gone by since his last class had finished, leaving Snape alone with his thoughts; thoughts that had plagued his mind following the eventful afternoon he had spent with Potter in his office.

There was one notion that continued to puzzle him even more than others. Potter had taken the small vial from his desk. After the fervent refusal to drink the contents, the child had decided to take the vial with him mere seconds before leaving the office. But why had he changed his mind? He was not complaining about the fact that Potter had decided to follow instructions for the first time in his life; he needed to ingest the Nutritional Potion after all; but why had he suddenly and abruptly desisted the fight?

…

A soft knock drew his attention back to the door. He had been too absorbed in his own musings to notice that it was now two minutes after the time he had told Potter to be present for the detention. Without turning around, he slowly waved his hand in order to open the door to the office and reveal said child standing nervously on the other side.

"As amusing" said Snape after giving the child enough time to move of his own accord, "as you may find to waste my time by standing there, I assure you I do not find it so." Turning around to face Harry who continued to stand in the threshold, Snape pinned the child with a hard stare. "It is now more than five minutes after the time I expressed your detention was at, and yet you continue to stand there and waste even more of my time." Harry did not move. "What else are you waiting for Potter?"

"I got here two minutes after…" mumbled Harry but quickly silenced himself when Snape shot him an annoyed glare as he walked towards the mysterious third door from the previous night. Not knowing what else to do and not wanting to annoy the professor even further by continuing to linger by the door, Harry made his way towards the desk on the other side of the room.

Unlike the night before, Harry was able to briefly look into the unknown room. To his disappointment it was not anything secret nor exiting. Beyond the open door was the Potions classroom, a discovery that made Harry feel slightly dejected for not realising how obvious it was. Of course Snape's classroom would be attached to his office! Nonetheless, before Harry was able to continue his way towards the desk, Snape came back out of the classroom clearly annoyed. This time he was carrying a medium sized crate, and shot Harry a look that clearly indicated that he was meant to have followed the man into the room, making Harry scramble to join him.

"You will be discarding the contents and washing each one of these vials," informed Snape. "You will find the appropriate utensils and a pair of suitable gloves over the counter."

Quickly turning around, Harry was able to spot the counter easily, although he was absolutely certain it had not been there during Potion's class the day before. Immediately after, Harry's eyes fixed on the abundance of wire brushes and other cleaning supplies, before moving to the gloves; he was however surprised to find not one pair but two pairs of thick black leather gloves, but before he was able to ask the Professor who else had the unfortunate task of serving detention with him, Snape took hold of the gloves nearest the box he had placed on the counter and began to work them over his hands.

Once again Harry was snapped out of his light daze by one of Snape's fearsome glares, and clambered to the counter and began to put on his own pair of gloves. Snape silently raised one of the vials to the light, observing the congealed contents for a few seconds before placing it beneath the soft flow of water. Giving the now slightly liquid contents a firm shake, he addressed Harry: "Take this vial and carefully shake the contents until you are able to pour them out, then wash and rinse it out completely and place it to dry over the counter."

Harry made a face but extended his hand to grab the vial.

"Oh and Potter, place your thumb over the opening." Snape turned to look at him. "We do not need the contents to be all over the floor."

"Yes Professor" was all Harry was able to say through gritted teeth before setting to work on his assigned task.

….

Harry watched as Snape continued to work on his own line of vials. Throughout the afternoon, Snape had carefully examined the contents of each flask and divided them into two groups, the ones Harry would wash and the ones he would do himself. So far, Snape's group had been growing more steadily as Harry's declined.

For the most part, they had worked in silence. The sound of the rubber gloves glazing over the glistening surface of the vials the only sound to entertain Harry as he worked along the sour man.

There were only five flasks left now in Harry's group, and yet Snape had given no sign that detention would be over any time in the near future; however, Harry was sure that since no other task had been mentioned before and it would be getting close to curfew soon; once Snape was done, they would be able to move on to whatever pointless task Snape decided on next and be just a bit closer to leaving the awful classroom, or at least be rid of the annoying gloves.

Setting his last vial next to the other ones over the counter, Harry stole one quick glance at Snape and then at the remaining group of flasks in front of the man. Realizing that the Professor had either not seen him or was ignoring the fact that he had finished his own task, Harry let out a determined breath. Using the small window of time he had while Snape placed his own vial to dry, Harry stretched his left arm as far as he could in order to reach for one of the last flasks on Snape's side of the counter. His stomach pressed against the small puddle that had formed at the end of the basin from all the washing and scrubbing he had done, soaking the soft fabric of his shirt and robes. His feet left the floor for a few seconds as he attempted to get closer to the small bottle, leaving him dangling over the wet counter. His hand closed around the glass, yet, as he pushed his body back to regain his footing, the sole of his shoes slipped on the water that continued to slowly drip to the floor, sending him flying towards the ground.

It happened so fast, Harry was not able to let go of the vial in his hand, making an awful cushion as his hand became in contact with the stone floor. Fragments of glass dug deep into his hand as the bottle broke into a million pieces, mixing the oozing blood with the black congealed mixture that used to be held inside. After hearing the soft thudding noise, Snape turned around abruptly, only to be met with Potter landing in a semi-sitting position while his head and upper body continued the trajectory until meeting the ground, then Potter's face scrunched up in clear pain as the sound of crushing glass reached his ears.

"Potter!" screamed Snape as soon as he finished taking in the scene before him. "Can you not do one simple job without breaking something!" he went on as Harry slowly grimaced, nonetheless, as he continued to stare at the child lying in front of him, the hardness in his voice slowly vanished and was replaced by something akin to resignation. Sighing in frustration, Snape placed the vial he continued to hold in his right hand on the counter before walking the short distance to where Harry was splayed on the ground and kneeling in front of him. Cautiously, Snape reached for Harry's injured hand and carefully rotated the wrist with his thumb and forefinger in order to get a better look, only pausing a second to stare at the child as he flinched at the proximity.

Softly groaning once again at the mess he was meant to fix thanks to Albus' Golden Boy, Snape observed the child in front of him. It was clear he was in discomfort, whether it was from the bits of glass in his hand only or because he had also hit his head as well was not clear. Knowing full well that he could not allow the Boy-Who-Lived to die of a badly treated head wound, he used the same hand that continued to hold the small wrist, to pull Potter towards him, while his right hand circled the boy's head in order to prove the back for any signs of trauma. Similar to before, Snape's attempt to reach Harry's head were not well received. As soon as the Professor placed his forefinger near Harry's nape, Harry attempted to turn his head to the side, however, this time his attempts were hindered by a pull of his arm towards the impatient Professor.

"Potter," said Snape as soon as he was sure the boy had suffered no further injuries, "it appears as though your knack for trouble has not managed to cause too much damage this time." Releasing Harry's hand, Snape stood up and commanded: "Get up Potter and sit on a stool, I will be back shortly."

Moaning at the torture of having to spend more time in Snape's presence and the throbbing pain in his hand, Harry slowly stood up being careful to not put pressure on the injured arm. Cradling the limb by the elbow in an attempt to calm the pain, he made his way slowly to the indicated stool and sat down. Snape was bound to return any time now with his hands full of the items necessary to write lines, as the Professor would assuredly take pleasure from watching him suffer through the rest of his detention while the glass remained in his hand.

To Harry's surprise however, Snape was not holding ink and a quill, instead he had what appeared to be a container with two small salve bottles and a towel inside, and a small basin with water. Without saying a word, Snape released of the items he was carrying in a nearby table, pulled a stool next to where Harry was currently sitting at, and took possession of the injured hand once again. He inspected the bleeding palm once more before grabbing what Harry knew to be a set of medical tweezers, and began to pull the pieces of glass out the hand in front of him.

"Professor," said Harry through gritted teeth as Snape continued to work on his hand, "would it not be faster to pull them out with magic?"

"Not in this case Potter," explained Snape after dumping a blood-covered piece of glass with a clank in the container.

"Why not?" asked Harry as he silently begged for the man to say anything to distract him from the soreness in his hand, and earning himself a long, scrutinizing look from the man sitting before him.

"Since you fell partly on your hand, some of the smaller fragments went past the first layers of skin, which could cause new lacerations as they are being forced out by magic." Declared Snape. "Now, I suggest you stop attempting to retract your hand unless you wish to keep my vial inside of it."

Harry could not help feeling as though the threat was not going to be carried out, even if he did not stop moving, however, he did not want to risk the fate of his hand simply to see how serious the man was. It was true that the man was not only taking care of his injuries, but he was also doing it in what he believed to be the least painful way, yet Harry supposed Snape did had an evil reputation for a reason. Using the opportunity as Snape vanished the used utensils and took hold of the basin and towel, Harry shifted positions in his chair in order to sit in his free and uninjured hand and briefly assess the damage on the other.

Turning back around, Snape held out his hand expectantly as he dipped the towel in the warm water. When no hand was moved in his direction he commanded: "Now Potter," to which Harry reluctantly yet immediately obeyed. Using all of his fingers this time, Snape wrapped his hand around the thin wrist and set to wipe away the remainders of blood and expired potion, which caused Harry to hiss from between his teeth and shift in his chair. Being an expired potion, the damage it could inflict was not too great, however it was bound to cause some irritation and severe redness since Potter had not only touched it with his bare hand but allowed it to penetrate his skin.

As Snape continued to clean the small hand with a surprisingly delicate touch, Harry's leg began to move up and down almost of its own accord. The many looks he continued to send in the child's direction as a reminder to keep still, where dutifully ignored, as the only thing Potter was concentrating on was the discomfort he was feeling under the pressure Snape was inflicting on his injuries. Just as suspected, the damage was not too great, however, it would require multiple applications of the salve for it to heal completely.

Once again, Snape vanished the items being used a few seconds ago and set to open one of the salves. The first one was a slightly blue color, and would be the most painful for Potter to bare. It was meant to disinfect the wound, creating quite a burn as soon as it was applied. However, the fact that it may cause him some discomfort was not going to make Snape feel sorry for the child or even consider any other option. It was necessary.

The moment Snape released his hand, Harry began to softly blow on his burning hand. The man had practically rubbed what was left of his skin off, and now the cool air of the dungeons made the cuts in his hand hurt a hundred times more than the moment the glass had gone in. Noticing Snape was now dipping his forefinger into what appeared to be a blue gel, Harry's right hand tensed around his wrist in an attempt to protect his injuries from whatever Snape had planned. Just as before, the stare Snape was sending in Harry's direction clearly demanded the small hand to be presented for further inspection, however, Harry could not bring himself to do it.

Losing his patience as quickly as before, Snape used his fingers to quickly force the child's away from the injured hand and pull it directly in front of him. Not giving Potter a second to even react to what was to happen, his right hand began to apply the blue slave as his left tensed a great amount in order to keep the child steady.

Harry's reaction was immediate. As soon as the professor's finger ghosted over his skin, spreading that awful gel, an intense burning took hold of his whole arm, forcing him to stand from the stool and pull his arm back. The man's strong hold was no match for his attempts however, and his hand remained hostage in the iron grip. Small hisses continued to flow from in between his teeth and his foot tapped a fast and uneven rhythm on the stone floor. For a second he entertained the idea of using his uninjured hand to attempt to release Snape's grip, yet he was forced to abandon said plan as a traitorous burning tear rolled down his burning cheek.

Snape quickly cleaned his hand on the wet towel, as he attempted to ignore the fact that Potter had actually shed a tear at the whole ordeal. His first instinct was to say some sarcastic remark in order to anger the child and somehow exert his just revenge on the child's father. Despite it all, he had managed to convince himself that the child was allowed to not be bothered for such displays. True, it had all been brought upon by Potter's carelessness and arrogant behavior; as the child had most likely believed himself to be better at washing the glass vials than he was or some other foolish idea; and yet, Potter was just an eleven year old, and no matter how daft he appeared to be he was just a child. That did not mean however that he would even consider actually dealing with the emotions Potter was failing at controlling and hiding. He had played nurse long enough and applied the first layer of the skin healing salve, so now he could send Potter on his way without risking Albus' or even Minerva's anger at leaving her poor lion bleeding and in pain.

"Potter," said Snape as he released Potter's wrist, "use this salve twice more if you wish for the scars to disappear completely or not and have something else to brag to your little friends about, I do not care."

With that last sentence, Snape stood up and cleaned all of the remaining items with a twist of his hand as Harry stared at his retreating back.


	12. The duel

"What happened afterward?"

Harry looked at Ron's concerned look and could not help raising his shoulders as an answer. What had happened afterward?

So far he had told them about the detention and how he had gotten himself slightly injured; which was probably Snape's fault if you asked him since the man could not have washed those vials any slower than he had. He had however skipped over the part where he had basically bawled in front of Snape and had not received any kind of sarcastic or rude comments from the man. In reality, the only thing he got was a vial with some sort of salve meant to cure his hand. Of course, after he had left the potion's classroom, he had gone straight to his own bed and fallen right asleep. It had not been until this morning, that he even thought of the salve he was meant to apply to his hand or even telling his friend what had transpired the night before, but clearly, he could not tell his friends every embarrassing moment he had spent during the afternoon, not even now.

"Well," breathed Harry as he looked at Ron's face and pulled out the vial out of his pocket, "he gave me this. He said to apply it on my hand if I wanted the scar to fade, or not, it didn't matter to him."

"Did he tell you what it was? I mean, he also gave you that mysterious Potion the other day" said Ron. At that exact time, Hermione, who had been immersed in a book with her back to both boys, turned around and immediately responded with an exasperated sigh.

"It is obviously a skin healing salve if Professor Snape said it would help fade the scar." The look she was giving Ron clearly indicated that she considered both boys to be very foolish for not having figured that much out on their own. After a small pause in which she dove into her book again, Hermione turned back around and continued in a much lower voice than before: "You said that Professor Snape healed your hand before you left, did you see him use the same vial that he gave you or was it a different one?"

"You don't think that it may be something else do you?" nearly screamed Ron; completely forgetting that he was a bit annoyed at the girl for jumping into their conversation.

"I don't know," said Harry, furrowing his brow slightly and looking down at his hands. "I mean, I think it was the same vial. When he left me in the room, right after the glass had gotten in my hand, he came back with two different vials. One was blue, I am sure of it, but the other one…I don't know."

"Well, then I am sure it is fine." Hermione, however, did not sound that convinced.

Harry continued to sit on the ground of the Common Room as he pondered on the probability of Snape changing the vials or perhaps using a spell to change them when Ron spoke again:

"I wouldn't put it past him to do it though. I've heard he can turn very nasty."

"Yeah, I guess." was all that Harry was able to say as a small group of kids walked into the Common Room. The small container felt heavy and cold in his hand, almost as if it had been laying in the snow instead of his pocket this whole time.

Had Snape actually used the same salve? Had he grabbed the vial from his own pocket or had it been laying on the table?

….

At three-thirty that same afternoon, Ron, Hermione, Harry and the rest of the kids in the Gryffindor Common Room hurried down to the steps of the grounds where their first flying lesson would take place. The small vial laid forgotten at the bottom of Harry's case. The small twinge in his hand the only remainder of what had happened or what he was supposed to have done.

Upon arriving at the grounds they could not help but groan slightly at the sight of all the Slytherin students standing with their brooms. Therefore, to Harry's dismay, Malfoy was there, standing proud; the one person Harry hated more than anyone he had ever known, including his uncle, would surely ruin his first flying lesson.

….

Fred and George had barely finished congratulating Harry for having been asked to join their House's Quidditch team when Malfoy appeared right in front of Ron and Harry. He was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

Had he really just agreed to fight Malfoy?

The reality of what had happened moments ago was beginning to dawn on him. He didn't even know how to do magic. Malfoy would surely kill him.

There was one consolation on his mind however, he would at least have Ron with him if everything went wrong.

…

"RUN!" Yelled Harry, and the Ron, Hermione, and Neville sprinted out of the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following.

His heartbeat rung in his ears, his breath came out ragged. He was in the lead. Leading everyone through corridors without knowing where he was going. Somehow they made it near the Charms classroom.

Peeves' appearance had them moving again. They ran for their lives. After all the commotion Peeves had created, Filch was sure to find them now. Before he knew what was happening, Harry felt Hermione grab his wand and use it to open the door before them. They quickly moved through the door and pressed their ears to it.

Peeves' laughter still echoed behind the door when all four kids turned around to face a monstrous dog. It filled the whole space between the ceiling and the floor. Its three heads faced them, making it impossible to miss the mad eyes and drooling saliva.

Harry quickly opened the door behind them, making all four of them fall through backward. Without giving it a second thought, he ran. Ron, Hermione, and Neville followed. They flew through the corridor, not even really stopping to see if Filch was still there. They didn't care. All they wanted was to put as much space as they could between themselves and the humongous dog.

Harry's legs were burning. His pajama top clung to his back as sweat trickled down his back. He could hear many steps behind him, everyone was following. He kept running, sprinting down the corridor. He took a sharp right and then again. His chest ached and head spun. The sound of his feet on the stone floor loud as it echoed on the walls. He stopped.

Where was everyone else? He had lost them. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to slow his heart a bit, he slowly made his way back the two turns he had taken. Was it two rights and a left?

"POTTER!"

His heart stopped and all color drained from his face. If there was anyone he did not want to find right now; other than Filch or that three-headed dog; it was Snape. And yet, there he was. His robes billowing behind him as he continued to walk to where Harry had frozen in place.

"Look who I found. Gryffindor's new Quidditch star." Snape's hand clutched Harry's arm in an iron grip right then and began dragging the child with him. There was something wrong with the kid and he would find out exactly what.


	13. The truth comes out, sort of

Warning: Corporal punishment in the shape of spanking. If this is not something you are fine reading, please do not continue to do so. If you do keep reading, I hope you like the chapter and do not forget to let me know what you thought in the comments.

Enjoy!

...

Snape had taken Harry to a room he had never seen before. His last detention had been spent in the classroom and he had already seen Snape's office, but this was different. If he had to guess, this was probably where Snape lived, and it was not like anything he had expected. True, he did not know the man that much, but he knew enough to know the man probably lived in something similar to a cave; people did call him the bat of the dungeons after all.

That was not the case at all though. The room was big. Right in front of him was what could only be explained as some type of parlor. It had two comfortable looking sofas. Across from the entrance was a beautiful fireplace that gave the whole room a soft orange glow as the firewood burned. From where he was standing, he could also see a couple of doors, heavy wooden doors, and they were closed.

Before he had any more time to take in the place before him, he was once again dragged by the arm, but this time he was deposited in front of the fire. The warmth made him shiver. He had not realized how cold he was until now. The man let go of his arm and walked back for all of three seconds before menacingly turning back around to face Harry.

"Why were you out of bed Potter?" He said threateningly.

Harry did not know what to say. Sure, he could attempt to explain that Malfoy had challenged him to a duel only to have him be chased by Filch; but this was Snape. The man would never believe him. Malfoy was a Slytherin.

He was surprised when he suddenly felt the neck of his pajama top tighten under Snape's hands. The man had gotten a hold of the soft fabric and was using it to force Harry to look straight at him.

"Why were you out of bed, Potter?" This time the question was enunciated more slowly, sending yet another shiver down Harry's spine.

"It is none of your business, Professor," said Harry with as much attitude as he could muster, deciding that there was no way he could explain the night's events to the man standing in front of him.

The hold on his shirt quickly loosened, leaving Harry a bit startled, but before he could register what was happening, he felt his arm imprisoned once again. This time, however, he was not dragged but spun around. Seconds later, he felt Snape's heavy hand make contact with his backside.

Harry sucked in air through his teeth as the sting assaulted him. His right foot moved forward after the impact and his hands instantly flew up in an attempt to loosen the man's hold, but his efforts were futile. Before he was even able to move a bit, Snape's hand made contact once again, and at once he was released without a word.

Harry swallowed thickly. A big lump keeping him from swallowing smoothly. His eyes began to prickle. He couldn't cry! His eyes immediately moved to the ground in an attempt to stop the burning sensation and the tears from falling, something that was proving to be extremely difficult the longer he stood there. What had just happened?

Snape took in a slightly startled breath. Part of him could not believe what he had done, and yet part of him also believed it was the right thing. It was true that the child was extremely disrespectful to him on more than one occasion, but he was Dumbledore's golden boy. No! Just as he had told the old man earlier, he would not let the child get away with any mischief when the rest of the faculty most obviously did.

Glancing quickly at the child he ordered: "Sit Potter!"

Harry quickly wiped his nose with the back of his hand. There were many other things he wanted to do instead of sitting down. Leave for example. Scream at the man. Maybe even ask him what on earth had that been. Of course, he knew what it was, his aunt had done it to him a couple times while he was very small until they decided he was too much of a freak to even attempt to correct his ways. But why Snape? Why had the man done, 'that', instead of chopping him up.

Harry's cheeks burned intensely as the last few seconds replayed in his mind. His stomach flipped. He knew he had crossed a line when he screamed at the man, but for him to react like that, well, he would have never guessed it. The look the professor was giving him clearly said he had taken too long to obey his order, and at once he realized what he was feeling. Guilt. All his life he had been bullied, ridiculed, even hated by those around him earning him unjustified punishments. This time, however, was different. He knew, deep down, that he did deserve it. He hated it. But it was justified.

He wiped at his nose once more before he felt his arm imprisoned once again. This time it was a lot looser than before, but by no means soft. He gloomily allowed Snape to move him towards one of the sofas; which had looked so comfortable minutes before; especially after the professor had repeated the same order as before through gritted teeth.

As soon as he sat down, Snape dragged one of two big armless chairs; currently completing a sort of u-shape facing the fireplace and that Harry had completely missed in his first glance around the room; to sit right across from him and took a seat.

"I know you were up to something Potter" declared Snape as he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his legs. "And do not dare to answer me with as much disrespect as you did moments ago." After a pause, he continued. "I will do you the kindness of informing you that your whereabouts are indeed my business not only because I am a Professor at this school but also because Professor Dumbledore has made it my task." At this Harry's eyes darted away from his lap and immediately began searching for any sign of a lie in the man's face. "During the afternoon detention in which you decided to eavesdrop on a private conversation rather than serve the punishment I assigned you, the Headmaster decreed I would be in charge of your education."

"In charge!" This was outrageous. "School..." Harry began once again.

"Is doing absolutely nothing to teach you some of life's basic needs. Your celebrity status makes you almost untouchable among many of your Professors, I, however, could not care less how famous you think you are." Responded Snape with a more raised voice after been interrupted once again. "Not even half of the year has transpired and you have managed to find trouble more than once." A pause. " It has been decided then that from now on every time you take part in any kind of mischief you will be expected to report to me and confess to your actions."

This declaration of course almost made Harry laugh aloud. Confess to his actions. The man must be absolutely mad if he thought he, Harry, would willingly tell him about every bit of wrongdoing he did so that the man could have a blast coming up with all sorts of ways to torment him.

"Which brings us back to what you were up to" Continued Snape after just a short meaningful pause to let his previous words sink in. "You will confess this second"

Harry, however, kept his mouth shut. The man clearly had it all wrong if he thought that threatening him was going to make him speak. There was no way. He would not do it.

"Very well," said Snape after giving what he considered enough time for the child to confess. "You will report to detention for the next week and a half, including the week end."

Harry's face fell at that declaration without meaning for it to do so. There were so many things that Harry wanted to answer back to the man in front of him. Many of them burned in his tongue, doing their best to bubble out. But they couldn't. He couldn't. He would not give Snape the joy of having another thing to punish him for. Luckily, he did not have to fight for too long as he was distracted by the fireplace roaring green. Harry shifted slightly in his seat on the couch. Snape turned sideways, his black hair covering most of his face. Seconds later Dumbledore appeared, standing in the middle of the fireplace, almost as if he was waiting for something.

"Leave Potter!" As soon as Dumbledore made his entrance, Snape stood up pulling Potter to his feet by an arm.

Harry, of course, pulled his arm away from the strong grip, making him bump softly into the couch behind his knees. He immediately looked to the man with as much courage as he could muster.

"No!" The one-word response quickly made Snape turn around. If there was one thing he could cure the child of was his disrespect for authority.

Inclining his head forward just a bit and looking straight into the child's eyes, he said: "You will leave immediately, Potter!" His left arm raised, allowing him to point at the door as he continued to stare at the child. His right-hand itching to apply the same correction it had moments ago.

A soft cough from their right announced once again Dumbledore's presence in the room, just before he stated:

"Professor Snape, if I may, I do believe it would be to young Harry's benefit to stay." That elicited a stare from the other man in front of him. "This meeting will, after all, be about him."

At that moment Harry wanted to laugh, and scream. A soft smile threatened to form on his lips at his small victory, and yet at the same time, he wanted to confront the Headmaster about the supposed plan to put him at Snape's mercy. If Snape had indeed told him the truth, the Headmaster was crazy for even considering giving Snape even more power over him. Like Snape had said, not even half of the year had gone by, and yet it had been enough time for everyone to see how much the man hated him. And he needed to talk to him about...about… well, the thing.

Before anyone could say anything else, Dumbledore sat down on the other armless chair as he waved an arm motioning for the other occupants of the room to do the same. Harry quickly sat back down on the sofa relishing in the victory the Headmaster had aided him gain. Snape for his part stared at the man for a bit longer. It was clear the Headmaster meant to Potter to be there. The man knew everything that happened at the castle. If he picked that specific second to intervene, it was because he wanted to.

"As I'm sure Professor Snape was beginning to explain to you," began Dumbledore as Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. Explain; right. "after much deliberation, I asked him to look over you. It is his opinion" at this Snape cleared his throat "that you lack discipline. That we, the staff, have and will continue to allow you to get away with too much because of who you are." The Headmaster made a pause in which he appeared to have forgotten about Harry being in the same room and stared at Snape through his spectacles as he continued: "I cannot say that I completely agree with you Severus because he is a child after all." Snape coughed again. This time a bit more forcefully as if to bring the Headmaster back to the main point and force him to assess every person in the room once again. "Of course. I have made him promise that he would not abuse his power over you…"

"But he will Professor" interrupted Harry, eliciting an annoyed glare from Snape along with a sigh.

For a second everyone was quiet. Dumbledore stared at Snape as if waiting for him to say something. But he didn't. Instead, he stood up and walked away from the chair he was previously in. After a couple of steps, Harry lost him from his side vision making it a mystery where he was going. Dumbledore simply nodded sadly once in the direction Snape had disappeared to.

"Harry. I will assure you he will not." answered the Headmaster as he scooted slightly toward in his chair.

"He hates me" Harry argued in a small whisper.

"He does not." breathed Dumbledore. After quickly glancing around he continued. "He does not hate you, Harry. It is simply our pasts that sometimes make us cold. But many times, if we take the effort to find out what's really behind the masks we wear every day, we may find ourselves to be surprised. But, we must always start at the very beginning of each tale if we do not wish to we get lost."

...

Snape held onto the table in front of him. Knuckles turning white. Hands shaking. What was going on? More importantly what had he done? Did he seriously smack Potter not even fifteen minutes ago?

Sure, the kid had been very disrespectful. Dumbledore had put him in charge of the child; again; but he had not said anything about spanking him. True, the Headmaster must have known Snape would be forced to punish the kid at some point. Potter had gotten himself in trouble multiple times already and it was not even halfway through the year. It was to be expected.

Dumbledore also knew about his own childhood. He knew what he could become. How much damage he could do to the kid. But he had trusted him. He had trusted him with his most precious weapon. And most likely now he was going to place that trust somewhere else. And that was perfect. He had not wanted to take care of Potter years back, he most definitely did not want to do it now. Yet, this time, unlike years before, Dumbledore would remember. He would remember how he had been let down. Not just him, but Lily's memory too. The two people in this world who ever thought he had some goodness left in him.

Snape's hands squished harder and his head fell. Elbows bent, upper body pressing forward, eyes shut, he took a deep breath, keeping it in for a second.

As soon as his hand had made contact the second time with the small backside, and he had turned the child around, a knife was dug into his heart. He knew that he had acted in the heat of the moment. He had not been overly harsh, and yet, he knew he should've offered an explanation. At least some sort of warning. Looking into Lily's eyes made him forget this was also James' son. Lily's green eyes had looked so sad, and hurt. It made him wish that he could offer now the comfort he couldn't give her in the last days. But he could not do it. He didn't have the means to do so. The truth would only hurt more.

He let the breath he has holding out very slowly. He needed to focus. Dumbledore and Potter were sitting in his parlor. One more breath. In and out. He straightened back up. His right hand reached for the particular vial containing the potion that would relieve him of the dull pounding in his head that had started hours ago. One swig and the potion was gone.

He allowed his eyes to close one more time. Why was it always him? Why did the Headmaster always chose him for such tasks?

...

Harry stared wide-eyed at the spot the Headmaster had just vacated. What had the man meant? Did he want him to ask about Snape's past? What was happening?

The sound of a door closing snapped Harry out of his thoughts. Snape was back. The man seemed to not realize Dumbledore was gone. He did, however, see Harry. Still seating.

Snape's eyes immediately grew dark as he caught a glimpse of the child's hand. It was clear to see that his suggestion to apply the salve twice more had been disregarded. However, unlike expected, the injured hand looked quite bad. The skin surrounding the incisions was puffy and peeling, clearly brought about by the expired potion. The skin was also obviously itchy as the whole hand had small signs of irritation, plus Potter was currently scratching it absentmindedly. Perhaps three applications would be needed.

Harry noticed. He followed Snape's stare and found his hands resting on his lap. Realizing what was wrong, his eyes traveled downward once again and his palms were turned to rest on each leg. The look he was getting was making Harry a bit anxious. But Snape could not get mad at him for that, he had said that it didn't matter to him if he used the salve or not, so essentially it was the man's fault his hand looked so disgusting. Right?

"You did not apply the salve I gave you" It was not a question nor a reproach. Somehow, Snape had managed to make that statement sound exactly like a simple fact, but Harry's eyes could not leave the floor just yet in wait for the biting conversation he was sure would follow. Once again, his throat was thick.

Another sigh. This time, however, coming from right in front of him. Raising his eyes just the slightest bit, Harry was met by black. Tons of black. And then his hand was pulled away from his leg. That made him look up.

Snape was standing directly in front of him, a vial identical to the one he had given Harry in his left hand.

"What did you do with the one I gave you Potter?" Snape sounded calm, resigned.

Harry really wanted to tell the man to stop asking questions he didn't care to get an answer for, but something in the way his hand was been examined stopped him. Instead of feeling like his arm was being ripped off, Snape was holding the small hand carefully, his own hand resting below and his thumb softly tilting the palm.

"I did not use it." His voice sounded small. Not at all like before. The bravery from earlier had left him.

"That much is obvious Potter." Snape tilted his hand again."That, however, was not my question" Black eyes met green ones once again.

Harry swallowed once more. How could the man intimidate him so much when he was this calm. When he was being yelled at he felt no remorse nor fear at answering in like, but now, all he could do was attempt to force the growing lump in his throat down and look to the ground. Right now his tongue felt a bit like rubber. What could he say that would not anger the man.

"It...I left it in my room" said Harry hating the sound of his voice. Snape stared at him once more, but this time it was almost as if he was deciding if the answer was indeed satisfactory. After a second he looked at his own hands. His left continued to hold Harry's while his right scooped a bit of the salve from the vial resting on a nearby table.

The sensation was different from the other ones the man had used on his hand. This one did not burn but he would gladly take it over the uncontrollable itch he was experiencing. If he was not currently overwhelmed by the urge to scratch at his hand, he would have marbled over the effect of the salve. His skin was slowly repairing itself, almost as if new bits were growing instantly. The redness was still there.

Taking another dollop of the salve, Snape carefully spread it over the swollen palm. He knew this application most likely itched just as much as the first one since there was a lot of repairing left to be done. The third and last one should be very soothing compared to the first two, nonetheless not comfortable by any means. Snape gave very little time in between applications in order to maintain himself occupied rather than thinking of what to say, and yet he could not help wonder what else had the old man told Potter.

The third application was not taking all of Harry's concentration anymore since it was not as itchy as the ones before, letting his mind wander back to the conversation he had had with Dumbledore. When exactly had it been decided that he needed to be treated like a little kid with someone to follow him around? In his opinion, he had not done anything too crazy, and even then, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had been there and he didn't see them getting a nanny like he was. Sure he had heard that he was special and all that, but why not then give him someone he liked, like McGonagall. She was head of Gryffindor after all. But no, it had been decided that Snape had to be the one. Well, who had decided? He never even had a vote. And he was the one getting affected.

And then there was this whole deal with the salve Snape was currently rubbing on his hand. The man had originally said that he did not care if he used it or not. Hence he had no issues listening to Ron and tossing it aside, and yet here he was, waiting for it to absorb as Snape held onto his hand. The man was surely mad. One second he was being all angry and yelling and the next he was calm, resigned almost. And now, he was left feeling guilty again. Guilty for yelling at the man. Guilty for not using the salve. Guilty for getting angry, for crying, for hating him.

….

"A whole week worth of detention?" asked Ron, a clear sign of disgust on his face.

As soon as Harry had made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, he was ambushed by his friends who immediately began to question him about what had happened. Ron even mentioned something about being sure he had been eaten by the horrendous three-headed dog. He told them everything that happened from the moment they got separated. Well, almost everything. He left out the whole thing where Snape had… where he… the whole 'incident' where Snape got angry at him. There really was no need to tell them either that or the fact that that awful man was now his nanny.

"Don't forget the weekend" said Harry woefully.

"He really is a git" continued Ron after a sigh, "I mean, all that just because he found you out of bed."

"Exactly," pitched in Hermione, "Professor Snape found him out of bed, something we have been warned about multiple times. In all honesty, just be glad Dumbledore does not know about it or you could be expelled."

At that moment it sank in. Dumbledore not only had seen him out of bed, he had never asked why he was in Snape's quarters, which meant he knew. He knew what they had all done. He knew about him getting caught, the yelling, Snape's reaction, the salve, everything. So it all made sense. He had made himself look like a fussy toddler in the man's eyes. He had disobeyed school rules, screamed at a professor. No wonder the man had begged Snape to nanny him. He had ruined it all. Without even knowing it. What chances did he have now of appealing to the Headmaster. He had demonstrated that he needed constant supervision. That he could not be trusted , he was doomed. Snape was going to make his life miserable. Malfoy and all the Slytherin's would surely be informed of everything by tomorrow. He would be the laughing stock of the whole school. Baby Harry and his nanny. It was going to be terrible. How was he even supposed to get any sleep now with all that hanging over his head?


	14. Detention and Trolls

Harry's cheeks prickled every time memories of the night before flooded his mind. So far he had not told anyone about the full series of events. And he wasn't going to. It was too embarrassing. He was not even going to bring it up while serving detention with Snape. He didn't care for whatever input the man could give him. If anything, he was going to pretend like it had never happened and hope it never did again.

Not only that but he was still annoyed at the man, and Dumbledore for that matter. Who gave them the right to decide his life for him? He was eleven years old, not two. Oh and then, Snape had to go and react that way. Again with the whole treating him like a little kid. Well, it was not going to happen any more. He would show them both, and anyone else who thought he needed someone to take care of him. He didn't need anyone. No professor, nobody. And must definitely he would not listen to anything they said. Confess to his actions. Right.

…

Snape's nerves were slightly on edge thinking about the very necessary conversation he needed to have with Potter. Over and over, the events of the previous night had turned on his head and almost every time he arrived at the same conclusion. Lily would not have wanted for her son to be treated that way. She would have reproached him for not offering comfort to her child. For delivering the news so bluntly. For not giving Potter a fair warning.

He had to do it. He would do it.

As soon as Potter showed up for his first detention he would lay the rules down. He would explain what was expected of him and what he could suppose in return. Yes, in just a few hours he would do just that.

…...

It was the third day of the assigned detention and so far all Harry had done was write lines over and over again. His hand was near falling off. Today it was a series of _I will respect the authority of my Professors and other adults_. It was not fun. No matter how much he attempted to think of something else, writing it over and over again was making it stick somewhere in the back of his mind. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. But it was, on principle. This was Snape. He couldn't actually acknowledge anything the man told him as important. He was angry at the man.

Grabbing a new set of parchment rolls, Harry carefully unrolled one of them. He did not want to write any more but at the same time he simple wanted to be done already and leave.

Snape watched Potter as he unrolled a piece of parchment just as he had done for the past couple of days. So far the child had managed to complete satisfactory work and stay away from trouble. That however could only mean that it was sure to follow soon. He had already failed for two consecutive afternoons at bringing up the subject, but he could not put it off any longer.

Uncrossing his arms and moving away from the back wall where he had been standing, Snape called out Potter's name. The child continued to scribble away on the parchment before him, making Snape's jaw tighten at the lack of response.

"There is a matter you and I must discuss Potter," said Snape after sighing at the still writing child, "stop.."

"Huh?" was the startled response Snape got from Harry, who stared at the man in attempt to realize what had been said. Harry had not given too much thought to his actions, but as soon as he turned around and got a glimpse of Snape's face, he realized he had made a grave mistake.

"Do not address me in such a manner!" barked Snape. "I am not one of your classmates and you will not address me as one." Potter's insolence had gone on for too long. He would break the child out of that habit.

"I am sure you remember the small conversation we had a few days ago, Potter." Snape continued. He was already frustrated, and they had barely begun conversing. Although he was not really expecting an answer from the insolent child before him, the lack of answer made him cringe. "I informed you that mischief on your part would not be accepted and was expected to be confessed to me. However, I realized a mistake. I overlooked the fact that I must express in simple terms exactly what this arrangement and the appropriate punishments I mentioned would consist of." A small pause to ensure the child was indeed listening. "As you experienced before, I am not opposed to corporal means to communicate my displeasure," another pause, shorter this time. "therefore you can expect to be on the receiving end of a spanking appropriate to the level of misconduct you display." Harry swallowed somewhat thickly at those words. The child had turned around in his stool to face the professor. At this announcement, part of his upper body inclined towards the desk he had been working on, almost as if to close himself off from the conversation . "Am I understood?" Finally asked Snape.

Harry stared at the rolled up corner of parchment paper on the desk. His left hand moved closer to it. Close enough that his thumb could now fidget with that corner. He knew the correct answer was to say yes, that he understood. But he could not bring himself to say it. It was exactly for this reason that he wanted to avoid the subject all together. He had managed to do so for three days, so why now?

Hearing another angry sigh from the man, Harry allowed his head to slowly nod as an acknowledgment of what Snape had said.

"I expect a verbal answer" demanded Snape not willing to give up on admission that his message had indeed sunk in and perhaps would deter any shenanigans Potter, Longbottom, Granger, and the Weasley boy may want to plan in the coming days.

"Yes." Was the only answer Harry gave. It was very soft and forced. The annoyance behind it was tactable.

"Yes sir." supplied Snape. He had gotten a verbal answer, so now he might as well teach him some manners. For a second, it appeared as though Harry was simply going to comply and repeat the offered response but seconds before his mouth opened a small mischievous glint shone in the emerald eyes. Harry straightened back up and spun in his chair once again to face Snape.

"There is really no need to call me sir, professor." A small side grin spread on Harry's lips at his own recognition of his wit. Sadly, Snape did not appreciate the comment at all. Before he even had time to think of a way to take the comment back, Snape was directly in front of him. Both arms were by the man's side. If Harry tilted his head just a bit upward he could look directly into the man's nose. A blink of an eye. Snape effortlessly lifted Harry up from his seated position and spun him to the side much like he had done a few days ago. Right away his right hand made contact twice, and then he released the boy.

This time Harry was not able to contain all of his tears in. One was currently rolling down his cheek. His nose was also running a bit. The whole ordeal was so quick he could not understand how his bum felt like it was currently on fire. Nor why he could not control his emotions. Throughout his childhood he had suffered many injuries without feeling the need to complain to his aunt and uncle. With Snape however, two seconds made him feel like a baby, and he did not like it one bit.

"I informed you mere seconds ago what the consequences for acts like this would be." said Snape pointing a finger in Potter's direction. "Obviously you did not believe it. But let me promise you that I have no qualms whatsoever about giving you further demonstrations until the lesson is learned."

"There was no need to do that" argued Harry with an increasingly stuffy nose, hating the sound of it, the tear sliding down his cheek, the burn in his bum.

"Oh and I suppose I was meant to laugh at your joke?" questioned Snape.

"Well no," said Harry with a bit of a whine and hurt in his voice. "But you did not have to do that" The last part was barely an angry whisper, and yet it had been heard.

"Let me make it clear for you Potter." Broke in Snape. "You have been informed of the consequences. You already know that I expect respect and good behavior out of you, and that nothing less will be well received. It is up to you how many more demonstrations you wish before I must administer a true spanking. And I say must because you and I both know that you will not be able to resist participating in some sort of mischief. But remember that when you do, you can expect my consequences to be effected. So ask yourself very carefully if the adventure is really worth it. "

….

On Halloween morning, the smell of baked pumpkin and sweets filled the castle. Harry's mind continued to wander back to the conversations he had with Snape over the last couple of days. He did not like the feeling of being threatened. That he now had to watch his every move in fear Snape would jump out from behind a wall, right hand at the ready.

His mood however, got better as the day went on. During Charms, Professor Flitwick announced that they were ready to start making objects fly. Although fun, it proved to be very difficult. Hermione of course got it right way, going as far a correcting Ron's pronunciation. That did not go well with Ron at all. He was in a bad mood for the rest of class, going as far as insulting her on their way out.

Harry could not help but worry for her when she did not turn up for their next class or the rest of the afternoon, but the amazing Halloween decorations in the Great Hall quickly took his mind off all of his is until Professor Quirrell made his great "Troll-in the dungeons-thought you ought to know" announcement and collapsed onto the floor.

As people frantically followed their prefects, Ron and Harry headed to the girls bathroom in order to warn Hermione of the troll. They saw Snape, which made Harry's palms begin to sweat. Luckily however, he was heading to the third floor instead of the dungeons like the rest of the professors. Too soon after that, the troll found them, and they began to run.

…..

Loud footsteps were heard soon after Harry wiped his wand on the troll's trousers, making Ron, Hermione, and him turn around. Professor McGonagall came in first, followed by Snape and then Quirrell.

McGonagall was angrier than Harry had ever seen her. And yet her anger did not match that of Snape. The swift, piercing look he sent was enough to make Harry look straight at the ground and wish he had followed Percy to the dormitories. His palms began to sweat again. The pounding in his head barely let him register the lie Hermione told everyone for their sakes. He could almost feel the hole Snape was digging into his forehead.

Too soon for his liking, Professor McGonagall awarded them points and dismissed them, forcing them to walk right across all of the Professors standing there.

Snape reached out a hand and took hold one of Potter's arms. The child stopped in place, making all eyes turn to them.

"Potter will be accompanying me to my office before joining the rest of his classmates in his dormitory" announced Snape as soon as Harry turned his head to look at him. Black eyes bore into the green ones, until Harry was forced to look at the ground once again.

No one said anything else. Snape didn't give them a chance, for as soon as his declaration was made, he began walking, moving Harry along with him. Hermione and Ron looked at each other and then at Harry, but no one said anything.

….

They did not go into Snape's office like the man had said. They were in his chambers. The fireplace was not roaring this time.

Harry was deposited in the middle of the room. He had barely a second to swallow and come up with something to say, when he saw Snape take hold of one of the armless chairs. The corner of the rug underneath it bent under one of the chair legs. Snape plopped the chair down next to him. Harry took a step backward. He had an idea of what Snape was planning, and he did not like it one bit. He took a few more steps back.

"Do not move Potter" barked Snape, making Harry's stomach jump at the tone. Snape moved forward, towards Harry.

Harry began to shake his head no before he finally found his words.

"Don't…" he said as he saw the man get closer and closer. The couch was now behind his legs, hindering his escape. Snape quickly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward. "No...wait" He tried again, getting more desperate by the second. He was now to the right of Snape. No matter how much he tried to root himself to the spot, Snape was able to drag him through the floor. Harry was close to tears, and Snape had yet to lay a hand on him. "Don't please" he tried again.

"You were warned" pointed out Snape as he turned to look at Potter straight in the eye. "You knew exactly what would happen if you did something as reckless as this." He could see the tears forming in the child's eyes. "Not even a day ago, I informed you of the consequences. Or have you forgotten?"

"No, but…" trailed off Harry.

"There is absolutely nothing else to be discussed then" Snape sat down on the chair, and held on to Potter's wrists. Slowly he guided him over his lap. As soon as he was positioned, Snape wrapped an arm around the small waist to steady him. Pushing the school robe out of the way, Snape raised his hand and smacked the jean-clad bottom before him.

Harry's body jerked over the man's lap. He held his breath in, attempting to keep himself from bawling right there. He was not going to cry. Nevermind, that every time Snape had punished him he had done so. He would not cry.

The next several smacks fell low and hard. The concentrated pain was worse than any taste he had gotten before. His hips wanted to squirm. To keep himself from being a stationary target. But Snape only held him harder. Harry was now squishing his eyes shut, hard, trying to concentrate on anything but the pain. His hands came to rest between his chest and the man's leg. Involuntarily, they latched onto the fabric below them. He rested his head on his closed fists, and his tears began to flow freely.

Snape felt Potter release the air the child had been holding in. His shoulders began to move up and down to the rhythm of his tears as soon as he delivered the fifth smack. By the seventh, Potter was sobbing quietly, and by the twelfth, hiccups escaped his lips every so often. Snape delivered the twentieth, and stopped.

Some part of his wanted to continue. Make Potter feel sorry for every wrong doing he had done in his life. He wouldn't cross that line.

Harry stayed where he was. Across Snape's lap, letting his tears fall freely. Not wanting to move. Snape would surely laugh at him now. Point out what a baby he was. He was blubbering after just a few minutes over the man's lap. Like a toddler.

Snape expected Potter to stand up as soon as he was done. His Slytherins did just that. Scrambled to their feet and ridded their faces of any traces of their distress immediately, asking to be allowed to leave. But Potter was still laying there. His tears were beginning to soak through the man's trouser leg. He could still feel the heaving pressure of the crying child.

Putting his arms under Potter's armpits, Snape began the process of lifting the child off of his lap. Potter was still holding on to the fabric of his trousers, forcing him to release on of Potter's sides and use that hand to untangle his clothing from the wet fist.

As soon as Harry felt Snape's hand on his, he opened his fist. Realising that he had been holding onto the man's trousers for dear life. He quickly placed his hands over his eyes, hiding from the world. This evening could not get any worse.

Snape was still lost. Instead of asking leave, potter was still standing, crying as though he was still being punished. His hands hiding his eyes, but making no effort to compose himself. Slowly, Snape took hold of the small shoulders before him, and guided Potter onto the couch.

As soon as the child's bottom made contact with the black leather, he sucked in a painful breath and hitched his shoulders as a sob spread through his body. Harry curled his body forward right away, placing his head atop his knees, hands still covering his eyes.

"You deserve every smack you got Potter," said Snape after yet another sob escaped the child's lips. His hand prickled after delivering such a punishment, and he knew it had been nowhere near enough to produce such theatrics.

"You had better start composing yourself Potter" tried again after seen no change in the child's state. "I do not tend to deal with…" but before he could finish that sentence, Potter shifted a bit. His face was now sideways, giving Snape a clear view of the bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face. His hands closed into fists again.

"Why?" Harry whispered harshly. "Why me? Why does it matter what I do?"

Snape was stricken. Why indeed. Yes, Dumbledore had asked him to take care of the child, but he had not been given instructions to educate the child. Why did he care?

"Why isn't Malfoy here instead of me?" continued Harry, staring back at his own lap. "He is a Slytherin. I am a Gryffindor. You are not supposed to care what I do" His voice was getting lower and lower, barely a whisper now. Breaking with the new angry tears that were forming in his eyes.

"You are special" replied Snape, making Potter turn angry eyes at him.

"And yet you don't care about that." Harry straightened up just a bit. "You said so yourself"

"I may not." said Snape, inching forward in his own chair just the slightest, "but the rest of the world does."

"So what?" An angry tear was now burning down Harry's cheek. "They only care about me because they think I am a hero. Well, I am not. I didn't do anything special. My parents are dead because of me" Harry immediately dropped his eyes at this declaration. He had never really thought about it, but now that he had said it, he knew it was true.

What was Snape supposed to say or do after such a statement. He had thought the same thing for so long. Blamed the child for everything that happened to Lily. Because it meant he could blame himself a little less. But this was a very heavy burden for a child to carry. One that he knew to be untrue.

"You did not Potter" was the only answer Snape thought of. "You were not the cause of their death"

"How would you know?" threw back Harry. On another day, at another time, Snape would have chided any child that spoke to him in such a tone, but just for now, he would make an exception.

"Because I knew your mother." There. He had said it. There was no going back now. Green eyes were focused on him."I knew her. And I know that it was her choice to protect you. One that she would make over and over again. Even knowing the result."

Harry looked once again at the floor. He could not believe what he was hearing. Snape was actually saying something nice about her. He had heard people talk about his eyes matched hers, her ability as a witch, but not many people had said anything beyond that. And Snape was the one to break the pattern.

Silence reigned at Snape's last words lingered in the air. Harry's heart was heavy and yet it felt very light. Almost like a weight had been lifted off.

"Bed, Potter" commanded Snape as he stood from his chair and returned it to its rightful spot, changing the topic. "It is much too late. You must return to your dormitory at once."

Harry nodded his head before adding a tired: "Yes sir." On his way to the door, he could not help lingering for just a second. He felt as though he should say something, but did not know what. Snape coughed, making him turn sideways just slightly.

"I hope you understand that what you did was not brave," said Snape, "but reckless." Black eyes bore into the side of Potter's head. "If you do not feel yourself a hero, do not pretend to be one."


	15. Nicolas Flamel

"What did Snape want?" asked Hermione the moment the three of them reunited in their common room.

Harry had really hoped his friends were asleep by the time he made it back so that he did not have to talk to anyone. But he was not so lucky. So far, he had managed to stay away from the light emanating from the fireplace in case Hermione or Ron stared at him too closely. He did not want them to be able to tell he had been crying.

"He wanted," stalled Harry. He needed to come up with something quick. But what. "He wanted me to finish some lines I started the other night during detention." Yeah, that sounded good.

"He could not let you feel good about defeating a troll, could he?" intervened Ron, rolling his eyes at the mere thought of the despicable man.

"Did you see what did it then?" asked Hermione before Harry had time to answer Ron.

"See what?" Ron and Harry asked almost at the same time, turning with confused looks on their faces.

"His leg!" Hermione was slightly exasperated. "Ugh! Do you both never pay attention?" At this Ron turned to look at Harry, raising his shoulders just slightly. "Snape was limping." She looked at both boys, waiting to see if they put it together. "There were traces of blood on his shoe, you must have seen it, Harry, as you walked down to his office."

But Harry had not. Not even while he was...preoccupied with something else. He had not noticed any limping, nor blood. But then again. He had not seen much for quite some while because of all the blubbering he had done. Just thinking about it, made his ears turn red.

"No sorry," said Harry, looking away from his two other friends, trying to keep them from noticing his hot face. "I didn't notice"

"No I suppose not" was all that Hermione answered, but she continued to study Harry as he tried to hide his face.

….

He had done it. He had spanked Potter. And not just a smack or two, a full spanking. He had been quite angry. The idiotic child! He could have gotten himself killed. All because he could not follow simple instructions. All students were meant to go to their common rooms. But no. Potter and Weasley had to put themselves in the middle of it. No regard for their lives.

Snape was pacing back and forth in his parlor. Trying to decipher what exactly he was feeling. Although he was still a bit angry at the child, that was not the main feeling he was experiencing. He had expected some sort of thrill at having finally extracted his vengeance. But he was less than thrilled. It was almost as though he felt guilty. Sad in a way.

He had no reason what so ever to feel guilty. The only one feeling guilty should be Potter. He was the one that had caused the events of the latter part of the evening. Not him. And yet. He was. Perhaps his warning should have been sterner, more menacing in order to deter Potter from diving headfirst into danger. He should have made him write lines about the consequences his actions would bring.

And the crying. It was not the first time he had seen Potter in tears, and yet this time, he felt urged to really comfort the child. Of course, he had immediately pushed the ridiculous feeling aside. He had to be unwavering and stern if he wanted to keep the child alive. Lily would disapprove of the coldness between her child and him, but he could not let himself feel bad about delivering a punishment. It was well deserved. Warnings were given. Just as he told Potter, there was nothing more to be discussed.

….

Harry laid in bed. Eyes wide open, staring at the shadowed ceiling. The moment he laid down, sleep had been replaced by treacherous thoughts. Thoughts about this new 'agreement' with Snape. If he was completely honest, he felt crazy for even considering it could turn out to be not as bad as he thought. Not that he had enjoyed his last meeting with Snape because who could. But, the man had shown him kindness. From time to time. Clearly, not the punishment because that had not been kind at all, but afterward.

Perhaps it was because the whole ordeal was different from what he knew. When his aunt and uncle used to punish him, he was locked in a cupboard, starved, ignored. Even similar situations ended with him much more sore and angry. He did not feel truly angry at the man. He had to be, to keep appearances. But deep down, he knew Snape was right. They were reckless, not brave.

Somehow, he had even felt comforted. The way Snape talked about his mum. The lack of ridicule for crying, clinging to the man's trouser leg. Snape even gave him time to compose himself before sending him back to his dormitory.

It was strange. Even the way in which Snape punished him felt different. It was methodical. In his own way, the man had even ensured Harry knew why he was punished and what was bound to happen. He was given reasons as to why it was happening unlike with his aunt and uncle. He used to receive punishments without knowing what he was supposed to have done wrong. With Snape, on the other hand, he knew. The man had not said it in so many words, but he knew. They both knew.

The pain was also different. His bum was still a bit tender, even as he was laying on his bed. But he was not bruised, nor truly injured. Maybe it was because Snape used his hand, instead of whatever he could find near him, but he doubted it. He knew Snape had intended for the punishment to be the way it happened. To not leave him broken. Ready to have to patch himself up to face another day.

…

The next morning, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were standing in the frozen courtyard, hurdled around the Quidditch Through the Ages book Hermione had lent Harry. As Harry read, something in the corner of his eye distracted him, making him look up from the book. Snape was limping across the courtyard. Hermione noticed immediately and elbowed Ron to get his attention. They all stared as Snape continued walking.

"I really do hope his leg is really hurting him," said Ron, narrowing his gaze at the man in black clothing. Harry nodded, and yet his mind almost wished it wasn't true.

….

As Harry was in the air, mounted on his Nimbus 2000, his broom lurched forward. He felt as though he was going to fall. A second passed. He grabbed onto the handle of the broom with as much strength as he could. It lurched again. And then, it started swishing through the air. Circling and turning out of his control.

No one seemed to notice what was happening, that is, until Hagrid finally pointed it out to Ron and Hermione. She immediately grabbed the binoculars Hagrid held in one of his hands and began searching the crowd.

"What are you doing?" screamed Ron over the commotion around them.

"I knew it!" yelled Hermione back, handing Ron the binoculars so that he could see Snape jinxing Harry's broom. She immediately began running through the crowd to where Snape was sitting. She knocked people over, never stopping. Not even when she pushed Professor Quirrell.

As soon as she reached her destination, she pulled out her wand and pronounced a spell that would produce blue flames from the tip of her wand. The edge of Snape's black robe immediately caught fire. People rushed to their feet as they noticed the fire. She looked up. Harry's broom was back under his control.

….

"My theory is" continued Hermione, after explaining to Harry and Hagrid what Snape had done to Harry's broom, "that he went to the third floor that night on Halloween. He tried to get past the three-headed dog, and it bit him. That is why he is limping," she finished triumphantly.

A crash resounded.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" said Hagrid, ignoring the broken teapot at his feet.

"Fluffy?" all three of them asked at the same time.

Hagrid on his part, related how he purchased said animal, only to stop when he was about to admit what exactly it was guarding. The one thing they did get out eventually was one name. Nicolas Flamel.

…..

So far, silence had reigned. Snape continued to work on a stack of tests that needed grading while Potter finished another set of lines. Every so often, Snape would look up to stare at the child. There was something going on. Potter's shoulders were slouched and he seemed tense.

After realizing he had stopped grading and continued to stare at Potter for a while, Snape lowered his quill onto the table with a sigh.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape asked as he interlaced his fingers before him.

"Nothing" responded Harry a bit too quickly, turning sideways to face the professor and adding a "Sir" afterward. Almost like an afterthought. Truth was, he was angry. Snape was trying to kill him. The man was awful. He had just begun to change his opinion on the man, and now he hated him again. The man hated him, and now he had a death sentence over his head. He was angry as well for being so nervous. The moment he walked into the classroom his stomach flipped just a bit. How was one supposed to act after receiving, being punished? Was he meant to act as if nothing happened? And what about the fact that he had just won his first Quidditch game? He was stuck in detention with his once-again least favorite person and not celebrating with his friends.

"And that is a lie," Snape said with a narrowed gaze, hoping the child would confess soon. Besides, mischief, which he seriously hoped was not the answer, he could only think of one other thing that could be bothering the child. Looking at the angry glare Potter was sending his way, perhaps he was correct.

"I truly hope that you are not sulking over the punishment from the previous night." The only response he got was Potter's reddened cheeks. "You will not sit here and…"

"It is not that" interrupted Harry. Snape fought the urge to scold the child. He needed him to speak, and reprimanding him would only lead to further silence. Potter was now looking at the ground past his shoulder.

"What is it then?" urged Snape, barely holding back a groan.

"It's just that…" started Harry, only to be silent again. How could he explain to the man sitting on the other side of the room that he did not know what was happening, that he was angry, and hurt, and confused, and that that made him even angrier?

"If you are going to say something say it now" demanded Snape, finally giving in to the groan. This was one thing he despised about children. Muttering and not completing sentences were at the top of the list. His jaw clenched. There was a heavy silence. "Potter!" he warned. His patience was diminishing very quickly. He did not have time for dramatics.

"You jinxed me!" finally declared Harry. He looked at the professor. His palms were now pressed against the top of his desk as if he was readying himself to stand up if his warning was not heeded. But he remained seated.

"I did nothing of the sort!" Snape was was Potter talking about?. "Why would you even consider blaming me for such a thing?"

"My broom" How dared Snape pretend like he had no idea what he was talking about. " I nearly fell off because of you" Harry was the one standing now. "If Hermione had not lighted…" Once he realized his mistake, he stopped, sucking in a breath.

"I will say this once, and you better listen Potter." Snape's finger was now pointed in Potter's direction, ignoring the fact that he had just admitted to the culprit behind his ruined robes. "I do not take well to being blamed, and much less without proper evidence. I did not jinx your broom and I do not know what gave you that idiotic idea."

"Your leg," Harry pointed out. "You were limping. You got bitten by the dog on the third floor" Before Harry could continue, Snape stood up and appeared to fly across the floor to stand right in front of him.

"How do you know about the dog?" Each word was enunciated slowly and emphasized by a shake of Harry's body through the professor's strong hold on either side of the neck of his robes. Harry swallowed thickly. He was suddenly feeling very small. "How?" Another jerk of his body.

"The" tried Harry, but his voice came out soft and shaky. "The night you caught me out of bed." The hold on his robes tightened. "I," he was not going to inculpate any of his friends any further, no matter what Snape did to him. "I went to the third floor, and… and, Mrs. Norris found me, so I ran and went into a room, the one with the dog. I ran out and then Peeves started chasing me." He looked away from the man's angry stare. "That's when you found me."

Snape released his hold on the robes and spun on his heel. He took a few steps in that new direction, running one hand through his face. He spun back around.

"Must you continuously risk your life?" Snape was very angry. What was he supposed to do now?

"It is not like I went looking for the dog," argued Harry. He was annoyed as well. "Unlike you." Harry knew he had gone a bit too far, but he was not backing out now.

"No" Snape was standing very close to the child once again. "I am an adult however. Not a child. Restricted areas in this school are not for me. They were set in place for children like you, who cannot keep their noses out of where they are not called." Both of them stared at each other, tempers high, chests rising to the rhythm of their heavy breathing. Neither willing to back down.

"Sit" commanded Snape, finally breaking the long silence that took over the room. Their steps, muffled by the soft rug under the sofa and the creaking of the leather resounded in Harry's ears.

Snape sat down in one of the chairs across from Potter. He stared at the child. He needed to know. He leaned forward. Arms rested on his lap.

"How much do you know?" Snape asked, closing his eyes for just a second and taking a deep breath.

"Just that" lied Harry much calmer than before. He did not want to talk about the bit about Nicolas Flamel since he would have to snitch on Hagrid. He had already mentioned Hermione's name. There was no need to implicate anybody else.

Snape stared at the child in front of him for a bit. He was beginning to correctly read Potter's body language. The child was hiding something.

"Lying is just as punishable of an offense as going after that troll." Snape saw Potter turn just the slightest bit red. "I would suggest you come clean this second."

"I can't." He really couldn't, not without dooming all of his friends. And how did he know he could actually trust Snape. Sure, the man said he was innocent, but everything pointed to him.

"You can and you will." That blasted child would confess, Snape was sure of it.

"But my friends.." Harry leaned forward on the couch as he trailed off.

"Are just as involved." Snape released a tired breath. "I do not care however about them. I care about what you know."

"If I tell you," said Harry as one of his hands moved to his forehead. He rubbed it, scrunching his face at the prospect.

"They will not face any repercussions." Snape could not believe he had just said that. He did not mean to say it. They should be reported. And yet, if it got Potter talking, he would know in just how much danger they were.

Harry stared at Snape. He slowly nodded. He was still unsure about confiding in Snape. Hermione's theory echoed in his head. But somehow, he believed him.

"I know that someone used Dark Magic to jinx my broom." Harry looked down at his lap momentarily. No matter what Snape said, he would still claim all the fault as his own. "A student couldn't have done it" He looked a the black pits across from him. "I thought it was you." Snape's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Harry swallowed. "After the Quidditch game," Harry looked down once again for just the briefest of seconds, "I found out that the dog is guarding something. Something to do with Nicolas Flamel."

Snape's eyes moved back and forth on Potter's face. That oaf, Hagrid. He was the one that blabbered. He had warned Dumbledore.

"Alright," said Snape, scooting forward in his chair, and using his right hand to take a hold of the child's chin. His and Potter's knees were almost touching now. They were staring at each other "You listen well. What you know, is not a light matter. Professor Dumbledore wants it kept a secret for a reason. You are not to go near that room ever again. That dog could seriously harm you. You are not to go searching for more information. You and your friends know far more than you should already." Snape paused. He dropped his hand. "If I find out that you went in there again, the spanking you experienced the night before will pale in comparison to the one you will receive." Another pause. His eyes hardened just a bit with the last statement. He stared straight into green ones. "Am I understood?"

Harry swallowed, feeling the heat radiating from his face. He started to nod, only to immediately add a "Yes sir." Snape nodded once.

"Now, it would bode well for you to forget you learned anything about that room at all." Potter nodded, smaller than before."As for the jinx," he continued, leaning back in his chair, "it was not me. I was, in fact, delivering the counter-curse."

Harry's eyes opened a bit in surprise at this, This was not what he had expected. Now he felt guilty. For being angry at the professor. For claiming to hate him. For blaming him.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, barely above a whisper. The ground caught his attention once again. Snape's eyes softened just the slightest bit.

"Next time," Snape continued as Potter slowly looked up at him, "please inform Ms. Granger that I would appreciate she got her facts correct before lighting my robes on fire"

Harry raised one shoulder towards his ear as he crooked the side of his mouth and said: "Sorry about that."

"Yes well," responded Snape, releasing a breath. "I suppose it had the desired effect even if inflicted on the wrong person."

Harry nodded, lowering his shoulder. A small grin played at the corner of his mouth.

"I must get back to grading," announced Snape, standing from his chair, "and you to your dormitory." Potter stared at him from his seated position. He pointed a finger and lowered his face a bit. "Now remember, you have been warned, Potter."


	16. Winter Break Begins

"I'm telling you," said Harry, trying to fight the irritation out of his voice, "he said it was not him."

"And I don't believe him," answered Ron. "Why do you anyway?" Ron was also annoyed now. Both him and Harry were facing each other. Hermione continued to seat on the ground, legs crossed, looking up at them, not saying anything.

"Because " was all that Harry answered. He did not want to explain himself to Ron. He would have to reveal too much, and he was not ready for that. "I just do, alright."

"But how can you?" Ron's face was red, nearly matching the color of his hair. "Did you not see him limping? What about how much he hates you?" He stared at Harry for a second. "I thought you hated him too, that git."

"Well, I don't." Harry could feel his neck heating up at that admission. It was his turn to scream back. Ever since he came back from his latest detention with Snape, Ron had yelled question after question at him.

"Hermione, say something please." Ron was now looking at the seated girl, pleading with his hands. But she said nothing. Instead, she picked up the book that laid forgotten on her lap and closed it as she stood up. The only thing she did say was a short "Goodnight" as she spun around and made her way to the staircase leading to the girl's dormitories, leaving both boys stunned and annoyed.

…

The next morning, the grounds were covered in snow, reminding everyone that Christmas break was near. Harry's and Ron's bad moods had dramatically decreased overnight, yet, they quickly rekindled after a small row they had over some news Ron received by owl.

The week before, Professor McGonagall passed a list for students intending to stay over the break to fill out. Harry had been delighted to find out that Ron and his brothers would be staying as well since their parents would be visiting Charlie in Romania. The news from this morning stated that plans had changed. Ron and his brothers were no longer staying. There was not a lot of information on the reason why, but Harry would now stay alone. That in itself was not the issue, however. He would much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to Privet Drive. The issue was that now he, and only he, was entrusted with the task of finding more information on Nicolas Flamel. He, of course, tried his best to sort of explain why he could not be the one in charge of such a task. He gave as many excuses as he could think of, short of actually telling his friends the real reason behind his hesitation.

Unlike the night before, Hermione joined this discussion, siding with Ron. That made it impossible for Harry to find good arguments. So in the end, he agreed, hoping that some miracle would occur and he did not have to carry out any part of the plan the three of them had concocted.

….

The two weeks remaining until the Christmas break passed quickly and mostly uneventfully, making Harry forget his worries about their plan. So far, the three of them managed to sneak little searches through the library without getting caught. Harry had also finished his detentions, only adding an extra day when Snape found him holding onto Malfoy's robes after he insulted Ron's family. Weirdly enough, Snape had not brought up anything they discussed that one night. Nothing about Fluffy, or the third floor, nor about Nicolas Flamel. That meant Harry would have to continue the search on his own. And now, every time he thought about it, with the castle slowly emptying, Harry could only think of how much easier it would be for Snape to find him. And that made his stomach flip.

…

After a few hours of sitting in his dormitory, Harry decided to use his first couple of days of freedom to attempt to find any and as much information as he could on Nicolas Flamel. That way, if he was able to find some information, he could actually enjoy the rest of his break for things such as perfecting his magical chest skills. But for now, he would go to the library.

After pretending to look through some books in the empty library, Harry ventured on towards the restricted section, hoping to look less nervous than he felt. His palms were sweaty. The first time he attempted to get close to the books in this section, Madam Pince saw him from far away. She had walked in his direction, forcing Harry to walk away, attempting to come across as though he had lost his way around the thousands of rows of books. That time had been easy because he had not been alone. As soon as Madam Pince saw him and he began walking away, he called Ron's and Hermione's name. This time, however, he was alone.

Taking one last look around him, to ensure no one was watching, Harry allowed his shaking hand to move closer to one of the spines. He ran a finger through it, swallowing thickly

"Mr. Potter," exclaimed Madam Pince as she saw him and walked towards him. 'What do you think you are doing in the restricted section?" She did not give Harry much of a chance to answer before continuing. "Unless you have written permission to be here, you must go."

Harry quickly turned around and walked away, offering an apology on his way out. He would have to find another way to get there when no professor was around. Ron and Hermione depended on him.

…...

Waking up on Christmas Day Harry was faced with a very nice surprise. Never had he had such a pile of presents. There was one from Ron's mother, one from Hagrid, one from Hermione, and one that had no proprietor. There was only one small note attached to it. No name, and handwriting Harry had never seen before.

After stroking the velvety present, Harry was able to tell what his present did. He became invisible. And now, he had the perfect way to find the information they needed.

…

The invisibility cloak laid on top of one of the bookshelves, next to the lamp Harry carried to illuminate the way to the restricted section in the library. As soon as he realized what that mysterious present did, an idea popped into his head. He could now sneak into the library and peruse all of the books without being seen. Of course, he would have to be very careful not to make any noise or let anyone see him holding the books or they might think there was a ghost or something haunting the library, but other than that, it was an easy plan.

Harry took a breath. Although he knew he was alone, he felt as though he was being watched. He carefully took one book out. He held it against his body, compensating for the unexpected weight. Running his finger towards the edge of the cover, he slowly lifted it up, along with a few pages.

A terrifying scream filled the air as soon as Harry opened the book, stunning him in his spot for a second. The scream got louder. He held onto the book, one hand on each side. And then someone slipped it from his arms and closed it against the same shelve his cloak and lamp laid in. Snape was there.

Because of the shock, both from the scream and from the book being torn away from his arms, Harry jumped. His mind racing, begging him to hide the cloak. In his effort, and due to Snape's proximity, Harry only managed to turn slightly, accidentally bumping onto the shelf. The lamp tumbled down and broke as soon as it made it to the ground.

Before Harry could do anything else, Snape pulled him closer by an arm. It was almost like a reflex. As though he was keeping Harry from jumping after the lamp. Harry just stood there, in his new spot, looking at the shattered lamp. Snape waved a hand and it was gone. He turned angry eyes at Harry.

"Come on," he said before using his other hand to pick up the forgotten cloak.

…

Harry was once again dragged down to Snape's quarters by a strong hold in one of his arms. This time, however, he was released as soon as both Snape and he crossed the door. The hand that held him, made an appearance once again, when after closing the door behind them, it collided with Harry's backside, propelling him towards the center of the room.

That hurt. It was obvious to Harry that the man was angry if the strength behind his hand was anything to go by. Harry felt a childish impulse to cover his bum from further punishment with both hands. Instead, he turned around, eyeing the man. He was definitely angry. Harry did not want the sharp pain he was feeling to increase, therefore he needed to think of something fast. Snape could not find out what he was really doing in the library.

Just like the first time Harry found himself in this position, he began to stumble backward, attempting to get to the other side of the room before Snape got to him.

"What did I say about searching for more information?" angrily asked Snape as he walked closer to the child.

"I...I" stuttered Harry.

"Did I not tell you not to do it?" Snape was very close to Harry now. "What about the consequences? Did you not listen?"

"I wasn't looking for anything on Nicolas Flamel" lied Harry before he could stop himself.

"Please" huffed Snape as he grabbed onto Potter's shoulders.

"No, I swear." Snape's and Harry's eyes met. "I swear it. I wasn't." Harry had never been one to lie before. There was no need. No one believed him when he said the truth anyway. This time though, the lie rolled off his tongue easily, over and over again.

Snape stared into Harry's eyes for a long time. The man took a deep breath. Anger was still clear on his face, yet he wasn't yelling anymore. His hands were no longer digging into Harry's shoulders, but resting.

Snape continued to stare at Potter. He saw the child in the restricted section of the library. Looking around, clearly aware that his intentions were not good. He hoped Potter would stop as soon as he touched one of the books. That the child was simply curious, but then he spotted the cloak. That blasted thing. It had been years since he saw it but he knew exactly what it did. How Potter came into possession of it, well he had a vague idea, and it involved Dumbledore.

He knew Potter was looking for information, or at least he thought so. Every instinct in his body told him the child was lying and yet he swore. He swore he was not looking. He stared straight into Potter's eyes trying to see any wavering. There was plenty. But perhaps he was not as skilled at reading the child as he thought. Not very likely, but that must be it. Potter swore. He could insist on the untruthfulness of that statement and process with the necessary punishment, but if he was wrong, Potter would never trust him. He wouldn't trust himself. Lily would be disappointed.

"I swear," said Harry one more time, suddenly feeling the knot in his stomach; formed before the threat of punishment; double in size. He could not back down now. If the man found out he was lying, he would, well, it probably would not be good for Harry. Snape took a deep breath. They continued to stare at each other, barely blinking.

"Alright," answered Snape, breaking the long silence, much calmer than before. His hands dropped, and he straightened up. He seemed to relax.

Snape took a step back, slightly pressing his legs to the back of the sofa. He seemed to forget what he was doing. As though he was embarrassed and did not know what to say. Harry swallowed thickly once again. His guilt growing. He lied to get out of a punishment and yet he did not feel any better. Snape straightened up and appeared to consider Potter for a few seconds. Then just as quickly, his stare hardened once again.

"You were in the restricted section nonetheless. In the middle of the night. Book open. And this." Snape pointed to the invisibility cloak, currently draped over one of the arms of the sofa. Even if he allowed the reason behind the search itself to be forgotten, the fact remained that Potter was once again breaking the rules. Intentionally, by the look of his equipment. "Was it not enough that you were already told not to be there once by Madam Pince? That I told you not to be there?"

Harry looked up with a surprised look on his face. How did Snape know about that?

What could Harry say now? There was no way now he could pretend like the whole incident was just a misunderstanding. Say he was breaking in his new present and somehow ended in the library. Snape had proof that Harry had attempted to get close to the books before. That he was told off by another professor as well. He needed to lie again. But what to say? That he lost his way? Or should he just admit to the whole thing?

"I'm sorry." Harry swallowed. Snape continued to stare, arms crossed.

"I am sure you are now that you were caught," said Snape, his voice going back to its annoyed tone. "The fact remains that you went there, Potter." Snape paused. Harry was looking straight at the man, tears were beginning to form in his eyes. Tears that begged him to confess to everything that second. "I am truly having a hard time believing you did not go in search of information."

"I didn't" barely whispered Harry. His throat was hoarse from the tears threatening to choke him if he did not let them fall. "I went there, because" his eyes moved to the ground to his left, thinking of his answer, "because I thought it would be fun." His voice sounded small and guilty, and Harry absolutely hated it.

"Fun?" Snape was really angry again. "You thought breaking the rules was fun?" This was something. So far, Snape had tried over and over again to see more than the child's father in him, and yet, here he was, acting exactly like that hateful man. Breaking rules. Not caring about anything. Not him though. He was the one in charge of Potter's son, and he would show the child just how 'boring' breaking the rules was. "What about your safety? Did you ever stop to think that perhaps rules are there to protect you?" Potter was now looking at him with slightly watery eyes. He grabbed onto Potter once again, this time by the forearms. He bent his body, bringing him to a more similar height to the child's. "Did you learn absolutely nothing from your encounter with that blasted dog?"

Snape released the child, along with a heavy breath. He needed to do something drastic for Potter to understand. Something that would make Potter truly realize the gravity of his actions. It was clear that the spanking he delivered before was not registered like he expected it to be. Potter was not understanding. He continued to break rule after rule as if they were no more than a suggestion. But he would change that.

Walking back, Snape ran a hand through his face. He made it to the other side of the parlor, stopping across from the sofa. Using that same hand, he took an armless chair and placed it next to him, just before turning back around.

"Come here," he commanded.

A slightly panicked look took over Harry's expression at Snape's order. Snape stood there. One hand on the chair. Hard eyes, staring. Not backing down on his command.

"Come here," said Snape once more, with a bit more emphasis.

Harry was pretty sure of what Snape had in mind, and he was not going to let it happen. He vowed to himself that he would not let the man treat him like that anymore. He was not two years old. And yet, right now, he could not help shaking under the threat. What was worse, was that Snape now expected him to walk directly to his doom. It was not happening. Snape was not lunging at him like before. Harry had to take the first step. Admit he was wrong. Which he was, in more ways than Snape knew.

"Stalling is not going to change my mind, Potter." Snape sat down, giving no room for argument. Harry opened his eyes wide with surprise once again. The man was really serious.

The moment Snape opened his mouth to no doubt continue his threat, Harry took one very small step in the Professor's direction, not realizing he was doing it. His eyes were downcast, mostly because of shame and guilt. He lied. Multiple times. He felt guilty because Snape was being fair. He had gotten in trouble for not following the rules before, so it was obvious the man would be displeased about it this time, no matter the reason. He had been warned against going in search of more information. He was told of the consequences. But he did it anyway. Snape caught him with the book open, a still burning lamp, and his invisibility cloak and yet, all Harry had to do was swear he had not been looking for answers and Snape dropped the matter. All because he lied.

He took another step, a bit larger this time. A heavy pressure in his chest began to form. He lied. And if Snape ever found out, he would really hate Harry. Two more steps. But what did it matter if Snape hated him. Didn't the man hate him already? He hated Snape. He did. Ron and Hermione did as well, so he had to.

One more step and he would be exactly to the side of Snape. He froze in his spot. Looking at the man. Snape was looking straight at him. Stern and yet sad almost. Why did he lie? His chest got heavier and heavier, making it hard for him to breath. Snape took a hold of his wrists and led him for the last step and into the necessary position. A tear escaped Harry's eyes.

As Snape began the spanking he realized that Potter was a lot tenser than before. He attributed that change to the fact that the child knew exactly what to expect from the consequences he was delivering, and probably a bit to the small walk he was forced to take. From the look of it, Potter felt as though he was walking to his own death if the slowness of his walk and the child's face were anything to judge by. But it was necessary, and clearly brought about a good change so far. Although Potter had not enjoyed it, he had not run away like the time before. He was no longer claiming to be left alone or begging not to be spanked. He had accepted that his actions had consequences and that this was the price to pay.

Exactly like the first time, Snape finished the spanking after twenty smacks. Potter was crying just as hard but the tension in his body was not gone. Unlike the time before though, the child did not remain on Snape's lap. As soon as the punishment was finished, Potter stood up. Tears running down his face. Hands trying to rub them away, slightly hindered by his own hiccups. Slowly he backed away to the couch, bringing his knees to his chest as he rested his head on an armrest.

Harry hated everything about this whole day. Why did he agree to search for answers? He knew that he was breaking the rules. He knew Snape would be displeased if he found out, and he did it anyway. And now, here he was. Burying his head on the leather sofa, trying not to think of what just happened, and feeling just as guilty as when it all started. Maybe even more.

The urge to comfort Potter once again flooded through Snape when a very loud sob escaped the child's lips. He tried to fight it. He did. But before he could stop himself, he scooted forward in his chair and gently placed a hand on one of Potter's elbows. The child for his part took one pained breath followed by a sob. Immediately Potter began to stir. Snape raised his hand, afraid that he had allowed himself to show more concern than he should have, but the moment he realized Potter was attempting to sit up, he closed his own hand around the bony elbow and pulled the child up.

As soon as Potter was sitting, Snape began to release the small joint. Before he was able to untangle himself completely though, Potter lunged forward just a bit, colliding with the man's arm. Harry latched his own arms around the black-covered one and rested his head on the professor's upper arm. Snape looked down in surprise at the small head below his shoulder but did not attempt to move.

They stayed like that, Snape holding on to Potter. Letting the tears seep through his sleeve. Lily's face filling his vision as he was reminded of his promise to protect her child. Harry, feeling more and more guilty by the second. Unlike two weeks ago, he did not feel a weight lift off his shoulders. If anything, it felt as though it had been added to them. But even then, his tears slowly subsided. Not wanting to move in fear his chest might explode.


	17. Tea

At some point, Snape's right arm took a life of its own and allowed his fingers to drum slowly on Potter's back. Harry was comforted by this. It was strange, but it somehow reminded him of his mum and dad. As if they had done it to him when he was a baby. And yet not quite. It was a different kind of comfort. But it reminded him of something, something from a long time ago, and yet, of nothing at all.

Snape continued to stare straight ahead. Potter's head was resting just below his shoulder. The rest of the boy's body was leaning slightly against his left leg. His arm was still wrapped around the tiny body, pressed against the rising chest, captured by Potter's two arms. It had been a few minutes now since Potter's tears stopped dampening his sleeve, and yet he was sure the child needed as much comfort now as he did through the crying.

It was a very strange feeling. Surprisingly, Snape did not feel as anxious and uncomfortable as he thought he should. He was not accustomed to offering physical comfort to anybody, much less a Potter. Even if this was Lilly's son. But he was at ease nonetheless.

A deep and somewhat shaky breath broke through Harry's mouth, his hand wiping at his nose. He sat up, slowly releasing the professor's arm in the process. He wiped his nose again. He felt so stupid.

Snape tore his eyes away from the wall as soon as he felt Potter sit up. Rested them at the top of the mop of black hair. They needed to talk. Obviously, there were still some rules that needed to be instated, actions to be addressed. But every time he thought of how to bring the topic up, it got stuck on his tongue. It was absurd.

"I…," said Harry, breaking Snape away from his thoughts. "I'm…" he tried again unsuccessfully. He wanted to apologize. But he couldn't. He did not feel he deserved to be heard. He was a liar.

Harry looked down at his own hands, only now realizing he was still holding onto the man's sleeve. Tears filled his eyes once again. It should have been impossible considering how much he cried seconds ago, but the sight of Snape's hand on his knee was making him feel even worse. The man had not moved. Pushed him aside. Even as he held onto him as if his life depended on it. Another shaky breath and the ache in his chest grew again. Snape was still silent. Allowing him to hold him. Like a baby. And he was sitting on the man's lap. He was a stupid baby. Who cried and cried and...

Snape felt a shift in the young boy resting on his knee. He saw the tears form in Potter's eyes once again, and could not help the bit of annoyance that rose inside of him. The dramatics! It was just a spanking. A very well deserved spanking. And yet Potter acted as though it was the end of the world. Was still acting rather. But something about the way the child was looking at his still-imprisoned hand told him those tears, the feelings Potter was fighting, came from somewhere else. It was not pain or even resentment. It was different.

"Potter" called Snape after deliberating for a few seconds. The child turned sideways immediately, wiping his eyes and nose once again. Snape stared at the green eyes. "Join me for tea."

Harry's eyes widened in slight alarm. Never in his life had he been asked to tea. In fact, his aunt and uncle had never even allowed him to be near tea time. He was meant to be quietly in his room well before that. Of course, he had sneaked down on some occasions and tried one of the cups left behind by his uncle's guests as everyone was saying their goodbyes by the door. In his opinion, it was not a good drink. The bits he had tried were very bitter and full of black speckles that got stuck to his tongue. But he couldn't say that to the man. He could not admit to not liking the drink or sneaking about to try it for Snape was sure to turn it into some sort of ridicule or punishment or something.

"Yes, sir," was all that Harry said. His tongue felt a bit dry at the prospect of drinking tea. And yet, he was once again filled with an overwhelming need to cry. Snape, the man he hated from the beginning, who he was meant to hate still and that had openly hated him in return, was the first person to invite him to tea. He should not be feeling like crying. There was no need. And yet, he could not help it.

Snape continued to stare at Potter, who remained sitting in his lap. The child was still looking at his own hands, fighting to keep a new set of tears at bay.

Harry wiped one stray tear, hoping the professor had not noticed. Perhaps he would think it was due to, to well, the punishment, and nothing else. He made a fool of himself earlier, but he definitely didn't want to make it worse by bawling again. Harry felt the man's eyes on him. Studying him. He stood up, suddenly very aware that Snape had missed nothing. He swallowed, eyes moving back and forth as heat spread through his cheeks and ears. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Why couldn't they just move on to tea now?

Snape fixed his sleeves as he stood up, not missing a second of the child in front of him. He cleared his throat just slightly.

"This way then Potter," Snape said, extending a hand in the direction of one of the doors located around the parlor. But Potter remained rooted to the spot. Looking at the ground. One hand furiously wiping at his nose. So, Snape placed his opposite hand in the middle of Potter's back. He began to steer them both towards the door.

On the other side of the door was a sort of study or office. There was a wooden desk on one side, with a quill standing to attention and a set of parchment rolls at the top. The chair behind it was upholstered in black leather, matching every other chair and sofa in the rooms Harry had seen. Opposite the desk, was a series of bookshelves reaching from the ground to the ceiling, full of books of all shapes and sizes. Most of them old, worn and stained by different colors and substances. Right in front of the books, and facing the desk, were two very comfortable looking armchairs, also leather. Between them was a wooden side table.

Snape continued to apply pressure on Harry's back until he was standing right in front of one of the chairs. The man then extended his hand toward it, after which Harry immediately sat down. Snape continued to stand. This time not facing him, but the tea table between the two chairs. A tray was brought by an elf seconds later and deposited on the small tea table. Snape fixed his sleeves once more, willing himself to be rid of the ridiculous notion that he needed to be careful as to not to upset Potter any further.

The appearance of the tray tore Harry's eyes away from his hands, currently resting on his lap. He observed as Snape poured a small amount of the dark amber liquid into the cup directly across from him, followed by the one closest to Snape. The difference in quantity made Harry's brows furrow. It was not like he really wanted a full cup of the thing, but why did Snape have to give him barely two sips and allow himself to have a full cup?

Without un-furrowing his eyebrows, Harry scooted forward and picked up his teacup, putting his hands around it, liking the feel of the handle. These were much nicer cups than the ones his aunt and uncle had. The porcelain felt smooth and cool to the touch. Harry peered into it, attempting to find the appeal in the drink and reason with himself again that it was better to not have as much of the bitter liquid. He sloshed it around the cup slightly. Titled it a bit more, trying to spot the disgusting black speckles. And then the cup was slashed from his hands. Snape was reaching across to take a hold of Harry's cup, an annoyed glare on his face. They stared at each other for a second. Harry in surprise. Snape with a glare that transmitted his low patience.

Not saying a word, Snape placed the teacup back in its saucer before stepping away. He made his way to the desk. Behind said item, was a cabinet. There he stored a few odd things he would need occasionally. In it, was a vial he needed right now.

The sound of small items being moved about traveled to where Harry was sitting. Harry did not turn around, however. He did not care about whatever the man was doing. In fact, he did not care about the professor at all. He was just mean. Offering him tea and then taking it away from him.

"If you behaved for just a second Potter" commented Snape, releasing a tired breath as he walked back to the chairs, "I could finish your tea." Snape sat down, placing the mysterious vial on the table between them. He stared at Potter for just a second before scooting forward just a bit in his chair. "Now, before you decide to blame me for attempting to poison you or some other ridiculous matter, this," Snape pushed the vial towards the child, "is a Nutritional Potion. Normally, I would suggest ingesting it along with your morning juice, however," Snape uncorked the vial, "you will be doing so now with your tea."

Harry made a small face at that announcement. Surely, that thing would taste horrible, and combining it with the tea would not make it any better. But there was not much he could do about it though, as Snape was already emptying the contents into his cup.

"I say this," continued Snape as he replaced the cork on the now empty vial and placed it back on the table, "because its effects may cause some drowsiness on those that are malnourished." Snape held up a hand before Potter could argue about the state of his health, wanting to leave that conversation for after the child had actually ingested the contents. "It is simply a warning before you attempt to concoct some story about the potion." He leaned back on his chair. "Furthermore, I will allow you to have a second cup of tea if you so wish. Milk and sugar will be permitted, but only on that second cup." To say he felt idiotic having to explain himself to a child was nowhere near the truth. Snape was not used to sharing the reasoning behind his every move, and yet, he was determined to get to the bottom of things with Potter, and in order to do so, he needed to keep the child relatively calm.

Snape picked up his own cup and saucer, taking a sip of the warm liquid. Potter was still staring at him, a slight scowl on his face as if he was still not fully convinced by his explanation. He lowered his teacup, releasing yet another annoyed breath.

"If you do not drink it, Potter, " warned Snape without turning his attention away from the object in his hands, "I will be forced to pour it down your throat." And with that Snape took another sip of his own tea. A satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his mouth after seeing the child pick up his cup and take one small sip of its contents.

Harry was surprised to find that the tea did not taste as bitter as he remembered. It was not sweet by any means, but at least he could swallow it without screwing up his face. That did not give Snape any points though. He was still annoyed at the man. Or at least that was easier than feeling bad for lying to the professor.

"As you probably know by now," Snape turned to look at Potter, breaking the silence that had taken over the room, "there is quite a bit you and I must discuss." He took a pause, setting his saucer back on the table. "Starting with the issue we addressed about an hour or so ago." Potter was now staring back at his hands and lap, clearly ashamed of the memories Snape was bringing back. "I am quite interested in verifying you did indeed learn the lesson." At this Potter nodded his head. Snape considered the child in front of him. "Look at me Potter," he commanded, for which Potter took a few seconds to fully obey, "I said this before but I will say it again, rules are made for a reason. To keep you safe. And breaking them does not prove you to be superior to the adults in your life, but rather make you look childish. So does claiming to break them to rid yourself of boredom." Potter was still staring back, just as instructed, yet his eyes seemed to continue to hold the sadness from earlier. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir" answered Harry with a shaky voice, feeling miserable all over again. Once more, tears were threatening to form in his eyes. How could Snape be so, so warm? The man should still be furious with him. Not explaining everything. Trying to make him understand the wrong in his actions. And yet here he was. The feared Potion's master, making sure Harry realized just what he did wrong.

"Good." Snape nodded his head once. "Getting caught for the same offense a third time will not bode well for you, am I clear?"

"No, sir" began Harry, heat spreading through his cheeks as he understood the real meaning behind Snape's words. "I mean, yes, it is clear. I won't do it again."

"See to it that you do not" was all that Snape said in return as he nodded towards Potter's forgotten tea, after which the child immediately picked it up and brought it to his lips, attempting to hide his reddened cheeks. They both stayed in silence for a time.

Snape was once again absorbed by his own thoughts. He needed to extract the meaning behind the child's tears, for it was clearly not only about the punishment. There was something else there. Something that Potter had hidden for a long time.

"I realize Potter" began Snape once again, after his own teacup was empty, "that, perhaps, the way in which I approached the subject of my being in charge of your discipline and education was not the most appropriate. For that, I must apologize." Potter was now staring at him, wide-eyed, making the professor shift a bit in slight embarrassment. "The fact remains that I am now not only your professor, but your mentor, and as such, I must be aware of your health."

"Isn't that what the potion is about?" asked Harry before he could stop himself, peering at the man over the rim of his teacup.

"It is" affirmed Snape, hating the conversation he was forcing himself to have already. "That, however, is not the only aspect of one's health." He observed as Potter furrowed his brows a bit as he responded with a simple oh. "I am," Snape looked for the right word for a second or two, "curious in your mental state following the punishment you received."

"You mean after the" Harry could feel the heat radiating out of his whole face this time, "the um, the…"

"The spanking yes," supplied Snape, making full note of the child's hesitation to complete his question, as well as the increased coloration of Potter's face and neck. "But most importantly, the moments before and after I invited you for tea."

Harry swallowed thickly. So Snape did notice. And now he wanted to know just what it was. Why Harry was such a baby and could not keep from crying for more than a few minutes. Like right now, tears were forming once again. And all because Snape asked a question. A question that nobody had ever asked him before.

Snape remained silent, allowing Potter to pull himself together and answer his question. But the more he observed the child, the more he noticed some similarities to his own childhood. The refusal to talk so far reminded him of the loneliness he felt in his early years of life. Of the fear to confide in anyone for no one had ever trusted him before. If he was correct, Potter needed time to answer him. To come to his own realization that keeping it inside would not help him in the future.

Harry used his sleeve to wipe his nose and eyes once again. No matter how hard he tried to put his feelings into words he could not. And he really did want to. He did not understand why, but he wanted to tell Snape. Tell him about his horrible childhood. Talk to him about his aunt and uncle, about Dudley and his friends, about Malfoy, and everything else that bothered him. But he couldn't. He felt horrible. The man was being kind. He was calm, allowing Harry to take his time. He wanted to talk. He wanted to believe that there was one adult in this world that did care about him. Not because he was famous, but because he was Harry. A child. And so far Snape had shown him just that. Sure, the man was angry most of the time, and even then, even if he hated to admit it, he was usually the source of the man's anger. Snape had not truly humiliated him in front of others either. Nor had he treated him like trash. No, he had been stern. Unyielding. Hard even. And yet, now, he was apologizing for his mistake. Attempting to understand him. To help him.

"I guess, um" Harry swallowed hard, "um, I guess I, I thought you," Harry turned to look at the professor, "hated me." He knew it was not necessarily the reason behind his tears, and yet it had a lot to do with them.

"Hmmm" was Snape's initial response. Barely strong enough for the sound to reach his own ears. He was taken back. He thought he hated the child. From the very beginning. That Potter was just like his father. But the more time he spent with him the less clear he was on the issue.

"I did," answered Snape, not sure why he was confessing such a thing to the child in front of him.

Harry looked into the man's eyes. They were stern as ever. So Snape did hate him.

"I believed I did." Snape continued after taking one deep breath. "I hated your father for so long, the moment I saw you I transferred that same loathing to you, only to realize moments later that you embodied more of your mother." Snape thought back to the moment he was left alone, in his own home, with the then one-year-old Potter. Lily's eyes made him change his mind immediately. He could not hate the child. Not truly.

Harry nodded as he considered what Snape said. Once again, the man brought up his parents. There was no screaming, from either side this time. Yet, just as before, Snape had defended his mother. The man's bluntness also made him think. No one in his life had so openly admitted to hating him. He knew what his aunt and uncle thought of him, how much they honestly hated him, yet he had never gotten them to admit it. Snape, however, was open about it. Said he had hated him. But also admitted to changing his mind.

"I hated you too," said Harry, looking up from his hands and drawing Snape's eyes back to Harry's face "I hated you because I thought you hated me." He stared into the black eyes. "Because you embarrassed me the first day we met." Everything was flowing out of Harry's mouth without him being able to stop it. "Because you said my dad was not a hero. Because you were angry at me and I did not know why. And I kept making you angry, even if I didn't mean to. And every time I yelled back at you I felt bad about it. And when you talked, it made sense. I didn't want it to. But it did. And that meant that you were right to be angry at me. And I couldn't be angry at you. I couldn't hate you anymore. Because you told me…" Harry stopped. The end of that sentence dying in his lips with a shaky breath. He knew now. He hated Snape for telling him the truth. Because he now trusted the man, wanted to like him.

Snape nodded once, unsure of how to respond. But he knew. He understood.

Harry took another sip out of his teacup, avoiding eye contact with Snape. The warm liquid felt delicious on his mouth and tongue. His hands were trembling just slightly, but his eyes were dry. One more sip and he placed the now empty cup down, back on the small table.

"I don't hate you anymore." It was barely a whisper, but Harry needed to say it. He looked up to Snape's face, looking for any sign that the man heard him. Black pits were staring back at him.

"Nor do I," was the only response Snape managed to say. He knew it was true now. He did not hate Potter. Never would he have thought it possible, but it was true.

Harry nodded his head. A bit of that weight added to his shoulders hours ago lifted. Not all of it, but some.

"It's weird," said Harry, a very small chuckle escaping his lips. "Out of every person I know, you are the first one to say that. I know lots of people do hate me, but, no one said it before. Not until now."

Snape was taken back once again by the boy's words, looking now into tired green eyes. He remained silent. Both of them did. Snape thought back to his own childhood and felt a similar feeling. It was strange. Having so much in common with Potter.

...

Snape was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts and memories. He turned to look at the child sitting on the chair next to him. He observed as Potter breathed more and more deeply by the second. The child was now fully asleep. The mix of emotions and the Nutritional Potion clearly wore him out.

Snape took a deep breath himself. Clearly, it was enough talking for tonight. Potter needed to rest. Allow the potion to work. Tomorrow, they could continue with their conversation. Get to the bottom of the child's actions and words. But tomorrow.

"Potter" called out Snape from his sitting position, after releasing a tired breath. There was no response. Not even a bit of a stir.

"Potter," he tried again, louder this time. The child's chest rose and fell with no disturbance at all.

Snape closed his eyes for a second. He opened them again and stood up. He took a few steps closer to the chair, leaned forward, his face resting a few inches from the child's. He cleared his throat and brought his right hand forward. He placed it on the tiny shoulder.

"Potter, you must rise now," said Snape as he shook said child, yet there was no sign of being heard either.

Before he could think much about what he was doing, Snape realized his hands moved until they were holding onto Potter by the armpits. He slowly hoisted the surprisingly light child up and brought him closer to his own body. He felt Potter's arms around his neck, his legs on his waist, so he shifted his arms, attempting to support the child's weight from the back of his legs.

Snape stood like that for a second. His mind flooded with memories of that first night he spent taking care of Potter. He had been a toddler then, but Snape had carried him almost the same way. And Potter had stopped crying. Even enjoyed the comfort Snape had given him. And now he has holding Potter the same way. Years later, but the same way. Snape closed his eyes. The pain was too much. Lily, his failure, it all flowed through him.

Harry shifted a bit in his sleep. Even in his state, oblivious to what was happening around him, he felt at peace. Comfortable. More so than he had been in a very long time.


	18. After tea

Here you go! A lot of answers will be answered, requests fulfilled.

I do really hope you all enjoy this long chapter, but as always, please let me know what you thought in a comment!

...

Harry woke up with a jolt, unsure of where he was. He quickly stretched his hand to the side, feeling for his glasses. After finding and putting them on, the room came into focus. Slowly he recognized the armless chairs and the sofa from Snape's parlor. One of the sofas was missing, however, as he was laying in a bed in its place. Pulling the soft sheets back, he also noticed that he was wearing pajamas, plain gray pajamas, that he did not own nor remembered getting into.

Harry swung his sock-clad feet to the side as he absentmindedly scratched one of his arms. Did he really admit the night before to not hating Snape anymore? And did Snape do so as well? He looked down at his feet, flexing his toes inside their soft prison. What happened after that though? He remembered talking to the professor and sitting on the chair in the study while having tea. But after that, he had no idea, and that made him feel as though something was wrong. There were too many things that he could not explain about how he ended up sleeping in Snape's parlor. Where was Snape anyway?

Looking around the room, Harry noticed that all doors were tightly closed giving him no indication of where the professor could be, yet, there was a low babble coming from Snape's office. Stretching his body and rubbing his eyes under the glasses once more, Harry stood up and walked towards the sound. As soon as he was close, he extended his hand to knock on the wood but stopped a few millimeters away.

"Yes, but I am not sure that is the wisest option right now." It was Snape and Dumbledore.

Harry lowered his hand. What if the man did not want to be disturbed? He was talking to Dumbledore after all, and it sounded important. And besides, what would he say after knocking; I just woke up in your parlor professor. Not very likely, especially with the Headmaster there. There was no need to embarrass himself further in front of both men.

"The utmost care is taken when examining all candidates to teach here at the school" continued Dumbledore's voice. Harry took a small step back. It did sound like an important conversation. "I am sure you understand his situation, Severus." Maybe he should wait just a bit. Surely interrupting both men was not a good idea.

A second later the door opened wide, making Harry stumble to keep straight and revealing an angry looking Snape. Before anyone could say anything else, the door closed once again, this time, pushing Snape into the same room. The man took one step forward. Harry's arm was imprisoned by the professor's large hand right away, making him fully aware of what was about to happen.

Snape pulled the small child closer to his body. Using his left arm, he circled Potter's waist, bending him over his own arm. Hitching the child up just a bit, he allowed his hand to make contact a few times with Potter's thinly covered backside. He released Potter, spinning him back around as he pushed the child just a bit toward the center of the room. They stared at each other.

"What do you think you were doing?" asked Snape in an angry tone.

"Nothing" supplied Harry, biting his lip to keep the tears at bay. "I was just looking for you." He was. He really was.

"If that was indeed true," continued Snape, taking an angry step in the child's direction, "you would have knocked at the door upon realizing my location, not lingered by it attempting to listen into my private conversation."

"I wasn't trying to listen," argued Harry, making an effort to keep his voice low so that Dumbledore would not hear just what was happening on the other side of the door. It was bad enough that he knew Snape was there.

"Yet, you were listening" Snape exclaimed, trying his best to reign his anger in. The impromptu meeting with Dumbledore did not help Snape's mood at all, and Potter was just making it worse. His head was pounding, and now he had to deal with the child as well. Potter was silent, clearly ashamed of being caught and the fact that their audience was not too far out of earshot. Snape took one sharp breath.

"Go to my study Potter," ordered Snape, wishing things had happened differently. That Dumbledore had not walked into his office moments ago. That Potter had behaved. "I will deal with you there."

"But I…" was as far as Harry was able to get before Snape cut him off with a simple, yet irritated "Go!"

Harry was left with no other option but to begin walking. He turned around just briefly, managing only to see the door to Snape's office close tightly behind him.

…

Harry sat down in one of the chairs with a huff. This was not fair. He really did not mean to listen to the man's conversation. He couldn't care less about what they were talking about. All he wanted was to go back to his dormitory. To not have to look at Snape anymore. But he was stuck here. Waiting for the professor so that his bum could pay for every mistake he made so far. Because there was no question that was what Snape meant by "I will deal with you there." Even in the few seconds they had face to face earlier, Snape had used that same method of communicating his displeasure. And they were only in the same room for a minute or two. As soon as Dumbledore was gone, the man would surely walk into the study, hurl him off the chair and beat him until he was blue. Well, not exactly, but in essence, yeah, until he was blue.

Besides, this was not how things were supposed to go. They both agreed they did not hate each other the night before, so today, they were supposed to try and be nice to each other. Say things like, what a lovely day it was outside or what they had planned for the weekend, not argue about whether he had been listening to their conversation. They were supposed to try and go through a day without either of them yelling at the other. Without him getting in trouble. But he had mucked it all up already. And now, they were both annoyed.

…

Snape slapped his hand down on the table in front of him. Dumbledore was gone now, but his worries were not abated. He expressed his concern about Professor Quirrell to the Headmaster, yet, just as usual, the old man assured him everything was alright. That everything was as it should be. And Snape could not help but disagree. There was something not quite right.

He also told the Headmaster about Potter's knowledge of the blasted dog. About how Potter, and therefore Granger and the Weasley boy, were curious about the issue. And yet, just as with Quirrell, Dumbledore assured him it was just childish curiosity, nothing more. But he knew better. Potter was not just curious. That child would somehow get involved. Just like his father. Putting his life at risk simply for the thrill of it. But no. He would make sure Potter stayed as far away from everything to do with the Sorcerer's Stone. Even if that meant threatening the child with every sort of torment he could think of.

Dumbledore's comment also rung in his head. How dared the old man tell him he needed to be softer with the child? If Dumbledore did not agree with what he was doing or his methods, he should have chosen someone else to take care of Potter. He was not going to change simply because Dumbledore thought it was better to pamper the child. Spoil him with candy. No, he was going to stick with what he was doing. Potter needed nothing else than a strict hand. Someone who would not cave in, no matter what.

...

The door to the study snapped open, followed right after by the potions professor, startling Harry just the slightest bit. Snape walked briskly to the other side of the room, and sat down at his desk, taking up the quill on its top and a book from the shelf. Immediately, he began writing with great speed, fuelled by the irritation caused by the tedious meeting with Dumbledore.

Harry stared at Snape from his sitting position. The man had not even acknowledged he was in the same room. The strength with which he was attacking the paper told Harry there was something else on the professor's mind. And that was alright with him, even if it was still annoying. It is not like he wanted to remind the man just why he was waiting for him. But the lack of acknowledgment just made him angry.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest as he slid down on the chair even more. He was bored. Surely, he had been waiting for the professor for at least an hour. He looked up at the ceiling.

"Sit up Potter," called out Snape from his desk. He knew that Potter was pouting about the couple of smacks he received earlier, and most likely about having to wait for him. Yet, he would not tolerate such juvenile displays. Particularly when he was attempting to write down some information Dumbledore gave him.

Harry looked at the professor with a narrowed gaze. Why did Snape care how he was sitting? Wasn't he being ignored? Snape took one brief second to harshly stare at him while he moved from one line in the paper to the next. Harry reluctantly straightened up in the chair, yet he did not drop his crossed arms. He looked away from the man. He was very tempted to simply walk out of the room if Snape was going to ignore him other than to command him to sit correctly.

"I thought we addressed your eavesdropping issues before," said Snape, not looking up from the book he was writing in. Harry for his part, eyed the man across from him, not turning to face him. He made a face. So Snape did remember just why he was there. Great, that was just awesome.

"I asked you a question," claimed Snape, looking straight at Potter. He released a deep, frustrated breath. His hand keeping the quill still mid-word.

"No you didn't," was Harry's response in a low, irked voice that he half-hoped the professor would not hear.

"Mind your cheek Potter." Snape closed the book with a loud snap. Harry turned his body, fully facing the desk now. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. The quill returned to its stand. He could no longer continue his writing.

"But you didn't ask me a question," defended Harry. The man was being unfair.

"Nor did I say I would not make you serve detention for the rest of the year," Snape countered, hand still pressed to the bridge of his nose, "so unless you wish that to be your future, I suggest you mind your cheek."

Harry kept quiet, yet he turned his body slightly to the side once again. He almost wondered if he didn't dream Snape telling him he did not hate him anymore. He was being just as mean as before.

"Let me be perfectly clear," said Snape after a small pause. Both his hands were on his lap now, yet Potter's attitude made them want to travel up to his temples. "You eavesdrop on a private conversation again," he saw Potter shift just the slightest bit in his chair, "and I may not be careful enough to close the door behind me as I take you over my knee, regardless of who might be in the other room." Potter was still facing the side of the room, but he was watching Snape out of the corner of his eyes now, aware of the threat that was just said. "Is that clear?"

"Yeah" was the only answer Harry gave under his breath, without turning his head, nor uncrossing his arms.

"That better not be your final answer Potter," declared Snape as he leaned forward on his desk.

"Yes, sir" answered Harry, shifting in his chair once again, this time loosening his arms, until they laid on his lap, one on top of the other. "It is clear." Some of his annoyance still present in his response, eliciting a long stare from Snape. He shifted some more under the scrutiny, hoping the professor would not continue to scold him. His face partly to the side of the room.

Snape took a deep breath. He rubbed his eyes with his left hand. The day felt so long, and most of the major event happened in the last thirty minutes or so. He let his hand drop.

"You missed dinner," announced Snape in a much calmer tone than before as he stood up from his desk and began walking across the room.

"But it's morning!" Surprise was clear in Harry's voice.

"Breakfast is in the morning ," Snape took hold of the chair the child was sitting in and turned it to face the small tea table.

"I know that," Harry answered with a bit of his earlier attitude as he held onto to arms of the chair. Snape for his part let go of that same item, and instead pinched Harry's left ear.

"Hey!" was the immediate answer Harry gave, as he leaned forward and turned to face the professor standing beside him. The look he was receiving quickly made him change his tone and wish he had not uttered a single sound. "I was just saying that I thought it was morning," Harry whined slightly as he rubbed his ear, hoping that his explanation would suffice for the professor.

"And I," said Snape in response, as he pushed Potter back in his chair so that he was sitting straight once again, "simply made sure you said nothing more in that tone."

Snape stared at the child for just a few more seconds, satisfied with the change in stance. He walked to stand next to the unoccupied chair and across from the small table. Pulled out his wand. With a flick of the professor's wrist, the table's legs slowly began to stretch, raising the table top. Seconds later a plate of food appeared on its top. Harry twisted his mouth into a small; yet noticeable; crooked grin at the sight. The vast majority of the plate was covered in plain vegetables, along with a small piece of meat. A glass of water sat near the plate, but none of his usual dinner supplements were anywhere to be found.

Snape pushed the table to sit above Potter's lap. The child looked at him, the grimace immediately wiping off of his face. Instead, Potter picked up his fork and fed himself a mouthful of the vegetables in front of him.

"What are you going to do?" asked Harry, quickly swallowing the bit in his mouth as soon as he saw Snape pick up a book that had been laying on the other chair's seat. "Professor?" he added at the end.

"Read," answered Snape, raising the book in Potter's direction, "obviously."

"No," continued Harry, " I mean, while I eat." He looked down briefly at the plate in front of him. "You are not just going to watch me eat, are you?" he finished as Snape sat down in his now empty chair.

"Did I not just say I intend on reading?" Snape turned to look at the child across from him.

"Yeah," began Harry, "but that's still a bit weird."

"Weird?" exclaimed Snape. "Am I not allowed to read in my own study?"

"Well, yeah," Harry raised a shoulder at this. "But it's weird that you are going to be sitting there while I eat."

"And what exactly do you propose I do?" Snape lowered the book a bit exasperated. "Leave you alone?"

"No. I don't know." Harry really did not have a good answer. It was just weird to have someone stare at you while you ate.

"Well, then perhaps" Snape responded as he leaned forward just a bit, "you should think of a suggestion before calling my intentions strange." He leaned back, picking up his book once more. "Now, if you have nothing else to criticize me on..." Snape opened his book, eyeing the child across from him out of the corner of his eyes. He could tell that his words were harsh and that Potter had not enjoyed them, but he could not help the bitterness in his tone.

Harry observed as the man began to read. He picked up his fork and continued to eat, wishing once again that he was not stuck with Snape. The professor was so difficult to deal with. He got angry so quickly, making him unsure of when he was really in trouble and when he was not. Like before. He was absolutely certain he was going to endure yet another punishment at Snape's hand, but the professor had simply threatened him about further offenses. Which raised the question once again. Harry took a glance at the professor. He wanted to ask, and yet dreaded the fact that he even through it would be a good idea. But he needed to know. He stole another glance, this time taking a sharp breath. Was that really it? Was Snape going to leave him off the hook for eavesdropping? Of course, it is not like he wanted to be punished, not at all. Especially since he wasn't actually eavesdropping. Sure, he heard a thing or two while he was standing by the door, but he didn't mean to. He was just taking his time. Deciding whether to knock on the door or not. But as Snape claimed earlier, he was listening. And that, according to the professor, classified as eavesdropping. And not that he wanted to remind Snape, but last time he did that, he received a similar threat about his fate, minus the whole door part. Harry looked again, swallowing somewhat thickly. But what if Snape was waiting for him to forget about it, only to remind him later. Or maybe, it was some sort of test. A test to see how well he was willing to follow Snape's rule of 'confessing his actions to him.' A sick, twisted kind of test, that...

"What now Potter?" asked Snape, closing his book with a soft snap, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

"I…" Harry swallowed. "I…" How did Snape know he wanted to say something?

"Well, out with it!" Snape's full attention was now on Potter. "I do not have all evening!"

"I," Harry began, "I guess… I sort of have…" He really did not want to bring the topic up. It could mean the rest of his sitting days were over for all he knew.

"Potter!" warned Snape, his headache returning, making him enunciate very slowly "What is it?"

"You didn't punish me," Harry said very quickly. He stared at the professor, meeting black eyes. "For eavesdropping. You didn't sp...punish me like you warned me about before."

"I did Potter," Snape spoke carefully. He set the book down and pushed himself forward to the edge of the chair. "But clearly it was not enough if you did not register it as a punishment. And that can be mended very quickly."

"No!" quickly argued Harry, "It did. It did, but you said…" He knew this was a bad idea.

"I am aware of what I said before," finished Snape after Potter trailed off, "I warned you that would you listen on a private conversation again, I would recur to corporal means of exposing my displeasure." A small pause. "Did I not do that?"

"Yes." The answer was soft, and Harry's face beet red. He could not believe he had gotten himself into this awful predicament.

"Did I not catch you in the act?" asked Snape. "Did I not make you aware of the reason?"

"Yes, but…" This was horrible. Snape surely thought he was mad or strange or something.

"But what?" Snape had a feeling he knew where Potter's mind was going to and he needed to clear something up quickly. "You were punished, Potter. You will be punished more severely for a third transgression, yes, but do not think that simply because I did not deliver a longer penalty the consequences were not delivered." Snape looked deep into the emerald eyes. "I administer the appropriate consequences to your actions, nothing more." He saw Potter nod. He took a deep breath. "That is not to say that those consequences cannot be adjusted if you do not deem them harsh enough to deter you from further mischief."

"No," quickly answered Harry, "that's not...you don't need to do that."

"We shall see." Snape stared at Potter. Perhaps, his original judgment of the young menace was worse than he thought. The child was clearly more damaged than what one could see from outside. But that did not mean he should feel pity for him. He was damaged himself, thrown down by life and his own actions, and no one took pity on him. Life was not fair. And the sooner Potter learned that the better everyone's life would be.

Harry continued to stare down at his plate. His cheeks still burned from the embarrassment Snape caused him. The whole conversation was worse than he thought possible. Surely Snape believed him to be some sort of weirdo by now. Why would he even bring the whole punishment topic up? Why could he not have forgotten about it and thanked his lucky stars all Snape had done was smacked him a few times, rather than the full treatment. But no. He could not keep his mouth shut.

Yet, there was something bothering him about the whole 'punishment' aspect of it. It was not that he wanted Snape to be true to his word, but the man had promised him more than a couple smacks. And now, in a strange sort of way, he felt betrayed. He had trusted Snape and the man had broken his promise. One that Harry had no particular interest Snape kept. But...

"You better finish that food Potter," warned Snape, breaking the silence that had taken over the room once again.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded automatically, not even bothering to look at the professor.

"If you expect me to carry some sort of conversation with you while you eat," claimed Snape after a few seconds, "you are doing a very poor job of demonstrating you can indeed accomplish both tasks simultaneously."

"I'm sorry." Tears forcing Harry' s apology to come out softer than he meant it to. The guilt from last night, the feeling of betrayal, it was all surfacing, forcing heavy tears to form.

Snape for his part released a sigh as he closed his eyes. He had done it again. Snarled at Lily's kid. He slowly opened his eyes, only to be met with Potter wiping his nose. The child began to push his food around with his fork.

"I do not see you eating Potter" Snape commented before he could stop himself.

"Yes sir," was the soft response the child offered. Harry didn't even raise his eyes. His lip trembling with the effort of keeping his tears from falling freely. Yet, seconds later, a strong sniffle broke through his lips. Snape briefly closed his eyes again.

"Potter," said Snape as soon as he opened his eyes.

"I am sorry, alright!" was the quick response Harry offered as he stood up from the table, pushing his chair back with a squeak. " I am sorry that I am such a baby. That I keep crying. But I just…" Harry trailed off. One tear rolled down his face. He was not sure of what he wanted to say. His head ached. The guilt from the night before was still lingering in the back of his mind, and the fact that he did not seem to be able to control his emotions while around the professor made him feel absolutely horrible. He wanted to pull his hair out. Break every piece of furniture in the room. Cry until he could not do so anymore ever again.

"Come here," softly ordered Snape, causing Potter's face to snap up. "Come here, Potter."

Harry swallowed, wiping his tears away. He took a hesitant step in the man's direction, only to quickly continue the rest of the way. As soon as he was standing next to the professor, Snape moved to the edge of the chair and took hold of his wrist, pulling him to lay across the man's lap. Harry's feet rose off the floor, just as they always did when he was found in a similar position. And then he felt Snape's hand make contact with his backside. The smack was very soft. Barely eliciting a sound. And yet, Harry began to sob. He sobbed harder than he had all day. Snape's hand made contact again, and then one last time.

Snape pulled Potter up from his lap, feeling the small shoulders shake in tune with the child's tears. He looked at Potter's face. It was scrunched up, and red. Tear tracks dampening his collar, as they flowed faster than the child could wipe them away. And then, he felt Potter's arms circle his neck, stunning him in his spot before he could even think of doing anything else. He released one breath, before allowing one of his arms to rest below the child's shoulders.

…

After a couple minutes of holding on to the professor's neck, Harry slowly dropped his arms. Yet, his forehead remained resting heavily on one of the man's shoulders. Snape's arm was still behind his back. Fingers drumming every so often just as they did the night before.

"I am a man of my word Potter," said Snape as soon as he felt Potter shift, "I will keep it. And if I promise you a punishment, you will get one."

"I know" responded Harry, turning his head to the side. He knew now.

"And yet," continued Snape, "you doubted me." Snape dropped his arm, using both hands instead to hold the child by the shoulders, pushing him back slightly to get a look at Potter's face. "But do you understand now?" Potter nodded softly, sniffling as his head moved up and down."I decide what your punishment will be. Whether it is a spanking or merely a few smacks. You will be punished for your wrongdoings. Of that, you can be certain."

Harry nodded his head once more. He felt a bit ashamed of himself. Getting worked up because he thought Snape had lied to him. Because he thought Snape had broken his promise to him. A promise to punish him, but a promise nonetheless. But Snape's words and actions reassured him. He knew that he could trust him. That Snape was a man of his word. An adult that would not let him down.

"You may also be quite certain," Snape's tone hardened a bit as he went on, "that if you ever raise your voice and behave as you did moments ago, you will be going back over my lap, but not for some soft taps anymore."

"I'm sorry," answered Harry. Heat spreading through his face. "I didn't mean to do that. I just…"

"Yes," breathed Snape, dropping his hands onto his lap. "That seems to be the theme with you." Potter sniffled once again, much softer than before.

"I am sorry," tried Harry again. "I don't know why I did that. I just got angry." Snape was staring at him. Breathing slowly. Waiting for him to continue. "It's stupid."

"The threat of a lie is a strong emotion." Snape took a pause, indicating Potter should reoccupy his previous spot. "Although I do not justify your outburst, nor do I intend on allowing you to get away with it should it happen again." Snape narrowed his gaze a bit.

"No, I know," answered Harry, nodding his head a bit. "It won't happen again." And he meant it. He would not let it happen again.

Silence fell on the small study. Harry thought back to his latest encounter over Snape's lap. He couldn't believe he had essentially forced Snape to give him a fake smacking. He was mental. And yet, he knew that had the professor not done that, his head would have exploded. It was strange. His opinion of the man changed so quickly. He trusted Snape now. He trusted him so much that the thought of him lying was enough to work him into a state. Even if it meant risking his bum.

Snape felt an odd sort of accomplishment surging through him. If Potter trusted him, it meant that he had a chance of keeping the child alive. Of turning him into something more than a mere celebrity. But panic was also very present. Who was he to earn the trust of a child? Of Lily's child?

He could not help thinking over the last set of events. He knew it was the right thing to do. Somehow, he knew that was what Potter needed. Reassurance. To be reminded, that he was the adult. That he was the one in charge of his education. And that a promise he made, was a promise he was going to keep. No matter what. The moment he urged Potter to walk towards him, he knew. He saw it in the child's eyes. The terror of believing someone else, another adult, was lying. Not willing to follow through. He knew that feeling. The look. But he would be different.

He also knew that further punishing Potter would not be correct. It would not have been just He had given the child just what he deserved. But explaining that to Potter had not worked. The terror of being betrayed was clouding the child's judgment. He needed to do something drastic. Show Potter that he was there. That he could be trusted.

"Am I correct in assuming you are not hungry anymore?" asked Snape, raising an eyebrow at the child in front of him. A few minutes had passed, both absorbed by their own thoughts. He broke the silence.

"No," said Harry, looking at his half-eaten plate, having completely forgotten it was there, "thank you."

"Hmmm," was the short response Snape offered after studying the child in front of him for another second or two. He waved his hand, causing an elf to appear in the room and swap Potter's plate for the same tea tray as the night before. This time, the Nutritional Potion was placed among the items, just as he had requested hours earlier.

Harry for his part took a quick glance at the professor as soon as the elf disappeared. A thought popped into his head. The whole reason he got in trouble before.

"I woke up in your parlor." Snape looked up at him, holding the teapot in one hand.

"Yes ," answered Snape as he continued serving the tea, "that tends to happen when one does not wander out of bed during the night."

"No, I mean," Harry scratched his forehead lightly, "the last thing I remember was drinking tea here with you. Then, I woke up in a bed in your parlor."

"Yes," Snape sat the teapot down. "as I said, the wonders of staying where you are supposed to." He stole a glance at Potter. Using his right hand, he transferred the second teacup to the spot in front of the child.

Harry looked down. The tea Snape offered him, unlike the night before, clearly had milk on it. He scanned the rest of the tray. The vial containing the Nutritional Potion was there. Empty and uncorked. A smile formed on Harry's lips. It was strange. Snape would not appreciate him acknowledging him for being nice. But he knew the professor was trying.

"If what you are so poorly attempting to ask is why you found yourself in my parlor," continued Snape, taking a sip of his own tea, "the answer is that you fell asleep in the same chair you are sitting in now." Potter blushed just slightly. "I had no intention whatsoever of dragging you through the school simply so that you were more comfortable."

"Oh," answered Harry, not sure of what else to say. Once again, he felt Snape was attempting to downplay the fact that he had done something nice for him, and he did not want to make the professor uncomfortable or angry at him for acknowledging it. Harry took a sip of his tea, relishing in the sweet and warm liquid.

"There is one thing I wish to discuss," Snape said, abruptly changing the subject. He stared straight at Potter once again. "The invisibility cloak you used last night, how did you come into possession of it?"

Harry swallowed tightly. He had actually forgotten about that. Surely by now, Snape had burnt it or torn it so that he could not use it ever again. But he did not expect the professor to ask about it. Harry took one big gulp of the tea in front of him.

"Not so eager to talk now Potter?" The child's nervousness said it all.

"Not really," admitted Harry, hoping that for some miracle it would be enough to persuade Snape to drop the subject.

"I am, however," Snape lowered his saucer and teacup, "therefore, you will tell me at once what you were planning to do with it once you found out its use."

"Nothing." Harry set his cup down with a small clank. He looked up to the professor with a slightly guilty look on his face. Out of everything Snape could have chosen to talk about, he had to pick that.

Snape leaned forward, setting his saucer on the small table. He rested an elbow on each of the chair's arms, interlacing his fingers under his chin. He stared at Harry.

"I thought," Harry mended quickly, averting his eyes from the professor's stare " I could use it to sneak down to the library." That was not a lie. It was not the full truth either, but it was not a lie. There was no reason for him to feel guilty. No reason at all.

"Yes." Snape did not move from his menacing position. "The restricted section. But we addressed that already." Potter swallowed thickly. "What else?"

"Nothing," Harry pleaded, "I really...I wasn't going to do anything with it." Snape huffed. "I really wasn't." He was lying again. He was, and he knew it. But he could not go back on everything he had told the professor. Besides, in a way, he was not planning on doing anything else with it. Just go the library to look for information in Nicolas Flamel. But nothing else.

"Very well," admitted Snape after a few seconds, dropping his arms and resting back on his chair. "But if I catch you employing it to break any more rules, not only will you be an extremely sorry boy, but I will confiscate it until I am certain you learned your lesson."

"I won't use it," hastily replied Harry, exited at the prospect of getting the cloak back and relieved that Snape believed him. "I promise." He would not use it. He was not going to lie about that. Snape did not deserve it.

Snape simply nodded once. He pulled out a watch out of his pocket. He glanced at its face for a second or two.

"To bed with you then Potter." He closed the watch and slipped it back into his robe.

"Bed?" Harry questioned.

"Yes," claimed Snape. "It is much too late for you to be up."

"But, I just woke up." Snape had to understand.

Snape didn't understand. The man simply raised his right arm and pointed at the study door. After a few seconds, Harry stood up. He did not want to go to bed. He was not tired, but something told him Snape was not willing to discuss the issue. He looked at Snape one last time, silently begging the man to change his mind. But the professor didn't. He remained where he was. Silently pointing at the door. Harry walked towards the other room. Snape followed almost immediately.

As soon as Harry was back in the parlor, he walked past the bed he woke up in, noticing his shoes under one of the chairs. He slid them out, placing his feet on them without undoing the laces. Harry headed in the direction of the door.

"Where do you think you are going Potter?" called out Snape, as soon as he spotted said child walking across the room.

"To bed," answered a confused Harry after turning back around to face the professor. "As you instructed me," he added for good measure, hoping to refresh the man's memory. Had Snape forgotten the last two seconds already?

"And yet," commented Snape, as he took a step forward, "you seem to be readying yourself to leave."

"Well, yeah," said Harry. He turned to look at the door and then extended his right hand to point at such item. "I was heading to the Gryffindor tower." What was Snape playing at?

"I do not think so Potter." Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "You will be staying right here, where I may keep an eye on you."

"What? Why?" asked Harry, still perplexed.

"Perhaps you forgot Potter," Snape raised one menacing eyebrow, daring the child to argue, "but you do not have the best record of heeding instructions while alone. With the castle half empty, you are sure to find more trouble than you can handle."

"But I am not," argued Harry.

"To bed Potter!" Snape dropped his arms, using his finger to point at the item he was referring to.

"But…" Harry tried again. It was one thing that Snape allowed him to stay in his parlor because he had fallen asleep and another to be forced to stay there because the man thought he was a toddler that could not be trusted to obey.

"Now," said Snape in a much lower voice. He took one large step forward.

Harry quickly walked across the room, careful to circle the bed away from Snape. He quickly toed his shoes off and pulled the sheets back, slipping his body into the soft fabric. No sooner than he had laid down, Snape got closer.

"You will stay there all night," warned Snape, resting one hand on top of the edge of the covers. The other was pointing at the child's face. "If I find you out of bed, I will drag you back in with a sore backside. Understood?"

"Yea...yes sir," corrected Harry as Snape's eyes narrowed. His face flushed at the threat.

Snape stood up, waiting for a second while Harry took his glasses off and handed them to the man's expecting hand. Snape placed them on the nearby table. Reaching the same study door out of which they had both walked out of, he turned around. Pulling out his wand, he quickly noxed the parlor lights, just after taking one last look at the child.

…

Snape took one long swig of his nightcap, rubbing his eyes for a second. He had been grading assignments for a long time now. His eyes drooping after reading one terrible assignment after the other. His mind traveling back over and over again to that same afternoon.

What was he going to do? It was clear Potter trusted him now. And he did too. Against his better judgment, but he did. That would only lead to trouble later on. He knew that the child would at some point start asking about his parents. The topic had come up already. He was not ready to talk about Lily. About her horrible death.

It did not help either that he knew he needed to somehow tell Potter about his early days with him. Tell him how he had given up. Taken him back to his relatives.

He thought he had the consolation of telling the child that his childhood had been much better that way. Now he was not so sure. They had not discussed it. But there were quite a few things that reminded him of his own childhood. Of the loneliness. He saw that in Potter. And he was the one to blame.

Snape rubbed his eyes one more time, setting the now empty glass on his desk. A wave of his hand and it was gone. He needed to sleep.

Snape stood up from his desk. His robes billowed slightly behind him. In a few steps, he made it into the parlor. Potter was still in bed. As he had instructed him to. Regardless of the child's claims of having just woken up, Potter was deeply asleep. Breathing as heavy as the night before. Once again, the Nutritional Potion and the evens of the day taking their toll on the child.

With one small nod of approval, Snape walked into his own room, being careful to close the door quietly behind him.


	19. Changes

Harry stretched his body, feeling very well rested. One quick look around the room told him he was alone. This time, however, no low grumbling was heard from any of the nearby rooms.

Harry sat up in bed, scratching the back of his head. The room was well lit, regardless of the lack of windows, making him unsure of what the time was. Taking one last look around the room, he stood up. On the other side of the room, where the second sofa used to be, now was a table and a chair. On its top was what appeared to be a bowl of porridge, topped with cream and berries. Next to it was a folded piece of parchment. Harry walked towards it.

I will return shortly. The facilities will be to your right. Eat and do not wander. I will know.

Professor Snape.

Attempt to open any locked doors in my quarters and you will sorely regret it. Do not heed any of my rules, and you will so as well.

Harry folded the note back down with a roll of his eyes. Why did Snape feel the need to threaten him every few seconds? He was not a child. Of course, he was not going to go trying to open every door in Snape's quarters. He was not mental. Nor did he have a death wish. If he was going to try to find more information on Nicolas Flamel he was not going to do it while stuck in Snape's parlor and the man could return at any second. He was smarter than that.

Harry sat down with a sigh. He looked down at the bowl. Even though the food looked quite appetizing, he was not particularly excited at the prospect of eating porridge. It was baby food. And normally, at breakfast, they would serve all sorts of things in the dining hall. Things that he was missing. He picked up the spoon, and stirred the warm porridge, observing as the berries slowly sunk under the soft-colored mush. He drove a spoonful into his mouth, looking up at the table. With a scowl, he pushed Snape's note out of the way. It was almost as he could feel Snape's presence in the room. As if he was standing right there, threatening him, rather than leaving instructions through a note.

Swallowing his fourth mouthful, Harry almost wished he was brave enough to leave the food and walk back to his tower. But he wasn't. It was not worth it. It was not worth risking his bum just to prove he was not a child. At least not because of something so silly. Breakfast. But he would show Snape, at some point, he would make him see that he was not a toddler as he continued to treat him like. He was eleven.

Looking slowly around the room, he noticed something. The door to the study was open. It meant it was not locked, and therefore, was not out of limits.

Harry quickly stood up, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. He picked up both items and made his way to the adjacent room. He carefully looked inside, making sure the room was empty. After finding it was, he opened the door the rest of the way and made his way in.

Somehow, the idea of being alone in Snape's study made a thrill run through his body. He knew, technically, the professor could not get angry at him. The door was open, and yet, he felt as though he was breaking the rules.

Harry saw the two chairs and the tea table returned to their normal positions and heights. All items had been cleared from Snape's desk. With one last look behind him, as if to make sure he was still alone, Harry headed towards the desk.

Carrying the warm bowl in one hand, he ran his left hand on the leatherback chair as he made his way around the chair. Carefully, he slid it back, making enough room to slip into the seat. He rested the bowl on one side of the desk, pushing it slightly to the side to make room for his hands directly in front of him.

Using his now licked-clean spoon as a quill, Harry pretended to grade assignments, smirking at the thought of being able to fail Malfoy. He also enjoyed the idea of handing detention after detention to every member of Slytherin while awarding multiple points to Hogwarts. Harry dropped his spoon back in the bowl. Behind the desk, on top of the lower cabinets of the bookshelf, was one lonely book. The side had faint marks of ink-printed fingerprints and it's pages looked very worn. He stood up and walked towards it.

Using his right hand, he flipped the cover open. More stains lined the first page, leaving him to guess some of the words in it. It looked like a boring book though. Focused on magical history or something like that. Harry picked up his bowl, eating a few spoonfuls of the sweet mix. He flipped a few more pages of the book.

…

Snape placed the ingredients he just purchased in his pocket. If he was going to continue to give Potter Nutritional Potions, he needed to brew some more. His supply was not numerous to begin with, and now, it was dangerously low. Using that same hand, he opened the door to his parlor. Unlike expected, the room was empty, making him narrow his gaze in immediate suspicion.

He had really hoped his note was enough to remind the child to behave, but obviously, he was wrong. The table was clear of all breakfast items, which meant, at least that instruction was followed. The bed sheets were carelessly thrown to the side, something that he would make Potter correct the moment he was effectively punished. The door to his study was different. It was wide open. He most definitely did not leave it that way.

…

"That better not be the book I believe it is Potter" boomed Snape's voice, making Harry's eyes widen as he jumped in surprise.

Harry turned partly to the side, unsure of what to answer. When did Snape even return? He had not heard a door opening or closing, nor any sign at all of the man being back. It was almost as if he had just appeared out of thin air. But he was back. He needed to change the page. If Snape didn't see just what he was reading he could pretend nothing had happened.

"Leave it," ordered Snape as he saw the child ready to close the book in question. He walked in Potter's direction.

Harry looked at the open book sadly. Right there, almost popping out of the page was Nicolas Flamel's name. Snape would murder him. But he really had not meant to find it. It had been an accident. A good, successful, and yet terrible and awful, accident. Maybe if he explained what and how it happened, Snape would believe him and just let him off with a slight scolding. He would take a set of lines or an essay. Detention even.

"You are eating breakfast in my study?" broke Snape in anger and disbelief as soon as he spotted the porridge bowl. Potter looked at him with a perplexed look, as if he had no idea what he was talking about.

"Out!," commanded Snape, one sharp finger pointing in the direction of the door. Potter would drive him insane, that was for could not leave the child alone for more than a few minutes without him finding some sort of mischief to engage in.

Harry remained rooted to the spot. He needed to explain before Snape got even angrier. He felt Snape's strong hand at the back of his neck seconds before the forgotten bowl was trusted into his hands. Snape turned him around so he was now facing the door.

"I said out with you!" commanded Snape once again, as he closed the book and used it to give Potter a slight smack and push towards the other room. "And you better finish that porridge before I come out Potter," continued Snape, "or you will not like what I do with it!"

…

Snape closed his eyes as he pressed the book against the top of his desk. It was his fault. He did not imagine Potter to walk into his study. Yes, he instructed the child to stay clear of locked rooms, which he had done. The study door was unlocked. But, he could not help feeling as though perhaps, he should have instructed Potter to not move from the dining chair.

That child always managed to find trouble. Somehow, he did. This time, however, he could not really blame Potter for it. He had been careless. In his rush to catch Dumbledore before he left for the day, he forgot to hide that particular book. The only one in his possession that contained information on Nicolas Flamel. The one he had turned to many times since the stone was transported to the school grounds.

He knew the information on it was not too descriptive. No more than a sentence or two. He had read them over and over again, attempting to find the real goal Quirrell wanted it for, other than his own immortality. He had a theory. One that he was not willing to bring up to the Headmaster just yet. For it had to be that. Just a theory.

Snape opened his eyes, slowly releasing a tired breath. Why did he ever think it would be sane to take Potter's education into his own hands? He could not get a minute of peace with the child around. And it did not help that he constantly saw more and more of Lily in the boy. The longer they spent together, the more he began to truly care for his wellbeing. And that was not him. He did not care for a child. No matter whose child it was. He was not an emotional person. If anything, he was cold, detached. Not a person to be relied on.

And yet, he was Potter's best choice. If the child was to strive in life, he needed him. He needed someone to teach him life's tough lessons. Someone that was there.

Snape turned his face to the side. He could not think about that. About his failure years before. He needed to deal with Potter now. He would explain his old choices to Potter soon, but first, this.

….

Snape stood by the door, looking at the dejected Potter slowly stir his breakfast. He crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at the child for a few seconds.

Harry spotted the professor across the room, and quickly fed himself a spoonful of the porridge, praying that he would be capable of swallowing it through the knot in his throat. He looked at the table. He hoped Snape would start yelling at him soon, or he was going to begin crying before the man even laid a finger on him.

"This morning," said Snape as he walked in Potter's direction, "I had the intention of conversing with you about some of the information you shared with me." He took a pause, indicating the child should continue with his breakfast. "While the Headmaster was here the night before, I encouraged the idea of satisfying your curiosity on the subject of Nicolas Flamel." He was now standing in the middle of the parlor, a few steps away from where Potter was sitting. "After much thought on my part, I believed that, perhaps, knowledge would prevent you and your friends from embarking on some ridiculous adventure. Now I realize that, just as Profesor Dumbledore commented, I was foolish to even entertain the idea." Potter was staring at him.

"No, it isn't" argued Harry, dropping his spoon into the bowl once again.

"But it is," continued Snape, holding up a finger. "I thought the lessons I imparted to you were learned, that perhaps, you had begun to realize that I am an adult and you are a child."

"I am not a child!" interrupted Harry in slight anger.

"You are a child." Snape's gaze became darker at the interruption. "And as such, it is your job to follow instructions. It is not up to you to decide. You do not know better."

"But I am not some toddler like you pretend I am." Anger was really rising in Harry now. "And it is not like I went looking for information. You left the book out." Harry pushed his chair back just the slightest bit. "If anyone is to blame, it's you."

"I did leave the book out," conceded Snape, "in my study. No one told you to go about looking at everything I own."

"It was just a book!" Harry leaned forward in his chair. "I did not go looking everywhere. It was on top of the cabinet. It is not like I started pulling everything out!" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned his face away from Snape.

"It is not simply about the book Potter." The child was not getting it. "I am in charge of your wellbeing. I am the adult. And if I cannot trust you will obey my orders, I cannot take care of you."

"And who said I wanted you to take care of me." Harry was facing the professor once again. The moment he said it, he knew he had gone too far, but he could not back out now.

Snape was taken back. He was aware that Potter had not been thrilled about the decision. He had not been either when Dumbledore proposed it. But he thought, he thought they had reached a sort of agreement. And he was wrong. Potter was still unhappy about it, and if that was the case then perhaps it was better to simply end it.

"So what," Harry stood up, "I don't want you to tell me what to do. I did fine without anyone in my life. I do not need you now." And with that Harry walked out of the parlor, leaving a silent Snape behind.


	20. Winter Break Ends

Harry punched the pillow at the top of his bed with both hands. He had no idea why he yelled at Snape. It was just that he was so, so angry. Something about how Snape said 'I cannot take care of you', how he called him a child. It was as if Snape really cared.

Belly down, face planted deep in the pillow, glasses pressed almost painfully against the bridge of his nose, Harry let out a groan. He was so stupid. Snape cared. He cared about him. And he had thrown that in the man's face. He panicked. Never had he had someone care about him, nor felt the need to rely on an adult, so he immediately pretended he didn't want Snape around. He lashed out at the one person that was interested in his well-being. And he saw it, it was for the shortest of seconds, but he saw a flash of hurt and disbelief in Snape's eyes. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was over. He could never fix things with Snape.

Harry turned to the side, closing his eyes tightly. Maybe, maybe if he went down there and apologized. If he begged Snape to forgive him, and explained what an idiot he was, maybe Snape would take him back. But why would he? It was obvious Snape thought he was a lot more trouble than he was worth. He was tired of him. Tired of all the trouble he got into, of the trouble he created for the man at every turn. No, Snape would not be interested in taking him back. He had really messed up. Big time.

…

Snape continued to stand, staring at the closed door. He knew something like this was bound to happen. Potter was sick of him. He drove the child away. Just like he did with Lily. Dumbledore was right, maybe he should have been less strict. But he could not. It was not in his nature. The same way that the thought of taking care of a child should not have crossed his mind.

The worse thing was he had actually begun to care for the child. And now, as much as he loathed to admit it, he was a bit sorry to think that Potter did not want him near. Had anyone told him he would be feeling this way at the beginning of the term, he would have called them mad. But he did.

…

A few days passed since Harry walked out of Snape's parlor in anger, and he had yet to talk to the professor. He hoped that meeting him in the dining hall would allow them to talk without risking being murdered on the spot, but by the second day, he had a feeling he had waited too long. A bit more than a week later he was certain there was no way to talk to Snape now. He would just have to live with what happened.

But, as Harry laid in bed, he felt restless. One look towards his trunk and he made his mind up. He needed to take a walk. There was no way he was going to fall asleep any time soon with those thoughts circling in his head. Sighing, he stood up and pulled the invisibility cloak over his head.

…

Harry stared at the reflection in the Mirror of Erised. He knew now that he was staring at his heart's deepest desire, his parents. The joy and sadness he was feeling, made him remain where he was sitting. For the first time, he was seeing his parents, waving at him. Smiles on their faces.

Dumbledore's words resonated in his head. He knew he should leave. Forget about what he discovered, but he felt so happy. And yet so sad. Knowing that this would be the only time he would see his family like this. Near him.

Harry stood up, shaking the dust off of his pajama trousers. Dumbledore was long gone, yet Harry did not want to be the reason the Headmaster had to come back again. He was leaving. He was. He was not going to spend any more time thinking about the mirror. They were taking it away anyway. So he would not be able to find it ever again. And that was fine. Perfect even. He did not need a constant reminder that what he wanted most in the world was to see his parents. He knew that.

Harry turned sharply around, shoes squeaking on the cold floor. He saw something. Right in the corner of the mirror. Mostly enveloped by the shadows, all covered in black. And he thought... but no, it could not have been, they had not talked… he didn't... Harry looked straight at the mirror again. He must have imagined it. There was no way Snape had appeared in the Mirror of Erised. There was no way.

…

Harry ran his thumb along the edge of the armrest of the chair he was sitting in. Ron had been blabbing about all the awesome things Fred and George had done during the break, but Harry could not bring himself to be truly excited. Occasionally, he would nod his head, exclaim that it sounded fun, or something that would show Ron he was listening, but he wasn't. Not really.

"What about you Harry?" asked Ron as soon as he was finished with his story. "How was your break?"

"It was great," immediately answered Harry averting his eyes as soon as he saw Hermione intently staring at him. He quickly changed the topic. "I found some stuff about Nicolas Flamel."

"What? Where?" Ron and Hermione questioned at the same time.

"I found a book." Harry gladly left out the part where he explained that the book was in Snape's study. There was no need to go into those details. "It didn't say much, just that he created the Philosopher's Stone."

"The what?" Ron's face was full of confusion as he scrunched it up and stared straight at Harry.

"But of course," responded Hermione before Harry had a chance to do so. "I cannot believe I forgot about that."

"You cannot have heard about the, the whatever stone" argued Ron with slight annoyance.

"I haven't" Hermione shot a look at Ron that showed her displeasure. "I read about it actually. The Philosopher's Stone," she continued, "has the power to transform any metal into pure gold as well as produce the Elixir of Life, making those who drink it immortal."

"That must be why Snape is after it!" Ron quickly added, forgetting his previous annoyance.

"Yeah, it must be." Harry was not so willing to argue with Ron this time around about who was really after the stone, so he settled on agreeing.

…

The Quidditch match that happened soon after the beginning of the new term was worse than Harry could have imagined. Sure, they had won. He caught the Golden Snitch, giving Gryffindor the victory, but at the last minute, Snape had been placed as referee for the match. That is what made the game absolutely awful.

Every time Harry stole a glance at the professor his stomach flipped and the guilt he felt over the whole incident got worse by the second. There were times when he really wished he could just stop the game in order to talk to Snape and sort everything out, but he knew that would be ridiculous. Snape would not want to talk to him. That much was obvious. Throughout the duration of the game, Snape had avoided looking at him, which could only mean the man was still angry. Not that Harry blamed him. The incident had been his fault after all but seeing it was not any easier.

…

Hermione and Harry stood by the window as Norbert was becoming smaller and smaller in the distance. They could still hear Hagrid's retreating steps as he blew his nose loudly. As soon as both Norbert and Hagrid were both out of earshot and view, Harry nudged his friend in order to indicate they should go back to their dormitory. Slowly, they made their way back on the same spiral staircase they used to go up. This time, however, Filch was waiting at the foot of the stairs.

…

Hermione and Harry finished telling Ron the events of their detention in the forest, leaving them with a heavy silence in the room. If Voldemort was the one killing unicorns and attempting to get to the Philosopher's Stone, that meant Snape was innocent. And that made Harry quite happy.

…

"What are we going to do?" asked Ron, looking concerned.

"I don't know," was the only thing Harry could think to say. He really did not know what they should do. They learned less than a few hours ago that Voldemort or whoever was trying to get to the Philosopher's Stone knew how to get past Fluffy. They tried warning Professor McGonagall, but that was useless. And now, they were out of options.

"Maybe you should go talk to," said Hermione, hesitating for a second, "Professor Snape, Harry."

"Snape?" Ron was outraged. Harry, however, looked at his friend with concern and something like panic.

"Oh, be quiet for a second Ronald," Hermione warned, shooting Ron an annoyed glare. "Come on Harry," she scooted forward, attempting to look straight in Harry's eyes, "I don't know what happened during the break, but I'm sure it can be put aside and you…"

"I don't know what you are talking about" Harry quickly answered, looking away from the girl. Meanwhile, Ron looked as if he was ready to explode.

"Harry," pleaded Hermione, bending her head again to attempt to look at him, "I am not trying to be mean. I don't…" She stopped, releasing one sharp breath. "All I'm saying is that I know something happened because you are not the same. Whatever it is, I do know that you trusted Professor Snape, and he could help us right now."

"Hold on a second," interrupted Ron, raising his hands in a clear sign that he had enough of Hermione's speech. "Harry doesn't trust Snape. Just because he said that one time that he didn't think Snape was trying to steal the stone, doesn't mean…" He looked at Harry. "It doesn't mean that, right?" Ron finally asked, looking disgusted.

"No, I," but Harry could not bring himself to continue, because he did trust Snape. It didn't matter if he mucked everything before, he trusted the man.

"No, Harry, you can't," finished Ron for him, his voice rising a bit with annoyance. "Remember how awful he was to you, remember that first day in Potions. He is mean." Ron was angry now.

"Ron, stop it!" intervened Hermione. "You are not helping."

"This is mad," finally conceded Ron, standing up from his spot, and heading in the direction of his dormitory. Hermione stared at Ron until he was completely gone, Harry continued to look into the roaring fire.

"You know Harry," said Hermione, letting out a slow breath, "I think that whatever happened last term made you happy, and that is worth fighting for." She stood up and began walking in the direction of her dormitory, only to spin back around. "It's not a bad thing to trust adults." And with that, she kept walking.

…

Harry laid in bed wide awake. Hermione's words kept spinning around in his head over and over again. Maybe she was right, maybe he needed to talk to Snape. Surely, he would not be able to fix things, but if he could just get Snape to help them, to hear them out, he would feel like Snape had not given up on him completely.

Harry squished his eyes closed tight. He was going to do it. He was going to walk down to Snape's rooms and talk to him. He would apologize, and explain, and apologize one more time, and over and over again until Snape was willing to listen to him and agreed to help them with the stone.

...

Harry shuffled his feet as he stood in front of the door of the Potions classroom. Slowly, he knocked. There was no answer. Even after the second time, Snape did not appear at the door, so, taking a deep breath, Harry carefully slid the door open.

"You must explain the events, Severus," said Dumbledore to Harry's surprise as he closed the door to the Potions classroom. He knew both men were approaching, he could hear their steps.

"Do not pretend as though you do not remember what happened." Snape's voice traveled to the other room. They were no longer moving. "You know very well that Potter was in my care all those years ago. You forced him upon me just as you did at the end of last year." Harry stood frozen in the middle of the room. "You remember. You know that I gave him up. That it was because of me that he returned to his Muggle family." Snape began moving again.

Harry remained where he was. It was as if he could not get enough breath into his lungs. It could not be true. He was hearing things. He took a step backward, then another. He kept going, not turning around, not realizing what he was doing. He felt the corner of a desk against the back of his legs, he heard it squeak as it noisily slid on the ground, but he didn't care.

"Potter" exclaimed Snape as soon as he was standing in the Potions classroom. Dumbledore nowhere to be seen. Harry shook his head, no one moved.

"No," finally said Harry, raising one flat hand towards the professor. "I thought you were different. I thought you cared." Harry could feel angry tears form in his eyes, but he would not let them fall.

"I…" pleaded Snape, taking a step forward.

"No!" Harry shakingly moved backward again. "You knew I trusted you and you said nothing." He looked straight at Snape. "You didn't do anything, not then, not now. And you won't help me." Harry turned around and headed straight to the door.

"You will stop right there." Snape's voice was chilling. A few weeks ago it would have turned Harry's stomach upside down, but not today.

"You can't tell me what to do anymore," was all that Harry said before closing the door behind him.

Harry walked fast in the direction of the Gryffindor Common room. He had made up his mind. If they were going to protect the Philosopher's Stone, they would go find it tonight.


End file.
